









I 



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V 


HARMONY WINS 






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'J'herk was something in Harmony that wouldn’t let her 

GIVE VY.—Page 196 . 




HARMONY WINS 


A BRIGHT LITTLE GIRL BRINGS 
MUSIC OUT OF DISCORD 

BY 

MILLICENT OLMSTED 


ILLUSTRATED BY ELIZABETH OTIS 



BOSTON 


LOTHROP. LEE & SHEPARD CO. 



Published, August, 1913 



M 


Copyright, 1913, 

BY Lotheop, Lee & Shepabd Co. 


All Rights Reserved 


Harmony Wins 


NORWOOD PRfiSS 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
Norwood, Mass. 

U. S. A. 



©CI.A350799 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Harmony 1 

11. Nairess** 17 

III. The Treasure Chamber .... 33 

IV. Harmony's Vision 48 

V. The Escape 60 

VI. The New Lodger 74 

VII. The Fairy Godmother 92 

VIII . Hero-o'-Mine 106 

IX. An Unexpected Attack . . . . 120 

X. Discovered 136 

XI. The Quarrel 149 

XII. An Interrupted Party .... 166 

XIII. The Promised Story 182 

XVI. Many Changes 195 


XV. Harmony Prevails 213 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


There was something in Harmony that 
wouldn’t let her give up (Page 196) Frontispiece 

Facing Page 

“ The hop-toad^ the hop-toad,” sang the de- 


lighted throng 

16 

** Hero-o*-mine, I place myself in your care ” . 
Harmony patiently stabbed for the elusive 

62 

holes in the buttons 

** Oh, Grig, you’re lovely ! ” 

84 

126 

The two little girls settled themselves for a 
good time 

160 

**Are we good friends for keeps now, Fairy 
Godmother ? ” 

182 

She gently pushed open the door, then stood 
amazed and silent upon the threshold . 

214 


HARMONY WINS 


CHAPTER I 

HARMONY 

O N the top step of the eight that led 
to the little high front porch of the 
Hale residence sat Harmony. The 
broiling sun of an August day was beating 
upon her. Across her knee lay a story book, 
so broken-backed that it required no effort 
to keep the leaves open. To shade her book, 
Harmony had unfurled an umbrella which 
never could have claimed aristocracy in the 
ranks of umbrelladom and now was not 
worthy the friendship of a scarecrow. 

Although she made a picture at which 
the street urchins jeered, it didn’t matter. 
She’d been hooted at ever since she was 
‘‘ knee-high to a grasshopper.” That’s 
what came of having a man like Grand- 
father for a grandfather. 


2 


HARMONY WINS 


“Hoh! Harmony Hale, 

He bought you at a bargain sale ! 

It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but what was 
a young person of eleven, or thereabouts, 
to do? She had in her dim youth exhausted 
all such abuse as turning up one’s nose and 
sticking out one’s tongue. Then came a 
period of calling names, but she had gone 
down to defeat long since under the 
colossal vocabulary of the street boy. At 
length. Harmony’s attitude became one of 
indifference, even a form of deafness. And 
so the boys didn’t annoy her as much, for 
what’s the use of teasing a person who 
doesn’t tease? 

If only Grandfather had developed 
a corresponding deafness! But Grand- 
father, in the thirty-odd years he had en- 
joyed the reputation of miserliness, had 
never grown used to the taunts of the sev- 
eral generations of street boys. Invariably, 
when they hooted, he would dart at them. 


HARMONY 


3 


shaking his cane and his fist, and shouting 
threats that sent the boys into spasms of 
gratification and fear* 

To-day they had an hour, more or less, 
of fun with Harmony’s slitted sunshade, 
but she read serenely on, despite heat and 
derision. A fairy story could so enthrall her 
that unpleasant things did not intrude* 
Suddenly Harmony lifted her tousled 
head and gave ear to a sound that came in- 
distinctly through the hot summer air* If 
there was one thing the little girl loved 
equally with the fairy tale, it was the gay 
music of the street piano. Both stirred the 
same part of her mind, but the melody beat 
in her heart and made her feet tingle* 
Harmony rose, listening. Her book slid 
down the steps unheeded and lay limply on 
the pavement where little quavers of heat 
danced. It was early, she thought, for 
’Seppy. He usually waited till the sun be- 
gan to go down, and it couldn’t yet be more 
than three o’clock* 


4 


HAR310NY WINS 


Off darted the little girl, eager to locate 
the alluring strains. Around the corner, 
quick as a wink, along that street — then 
suddenly she stopped. The piano was in a 
house, and it was not the street piano of her 
heart after all. 

Harmony’s whole figure drooped as she 
slowly retraced the long stretch of un- 
shaded sidewalk to her home once more. 

I was sure it was too soon for ’Seppy,” 
ishe sighed. 

Picking up the slighted story book, she 
smoothed its pages lovingly with a be- 
grimed little hand and then clasped it 
against her breast. 

She glanced up the dusty steps to the 
littered porch in front of her door. The 
paint on that portal hadn’t a vestige of 
color. Harmony had often wondered what 
it really had been, for dust and soot had 
rubbed it quite away. It was blistered and 
peeling and altogether inhospitable-look- 
ing. In fact, the whole neighborhood was 


HARMONY 


5 


unsightly from neglect. The pitiless bright 
sun pointed with accusing distinctness at 
broken porch balusters, sagging steps, and 
missing shutters. 

The only cheerful windows were the two 
that peeped up above a stone curb and area- 
way under the front steps. These belonged 
to the half-submerged dining-room where 
Eileen, cheerful, untidy Eileen, held sway. 
Here the blinds were always open, and be- 
tween the fluttering tags of the ancient lace 
curtains, one caught glimpses of a red- 
checked table cloth and a few articles 
of cheap glass and china. Oftentimes, 
Eileen’s broad, smiling face beamed out up- 
on the lonely little girl called Harmony 
Hale, and her tender Irish blandishments 
came reassuringly through the open sash. 

Just now, as Harmony was peering hope- 
fully into these half obscured windows for 
the curly head of Eileen, a voice sounded 
from within the house. 

“ Harmony ! Harmony ! ” 


6 


HARMONY WINS 


The voice pronounced it Harmonee-e,” 
with a soft, fretful drawl. The child gave 
a little shiver, glanced hastily up and down 
the street, then, with feet that dragged 
leaden-heavy, took her reluctant way up 
the steps. She closed the dilapidated um- 
brella and entered the house softly, shut- 
ting the front door without a jar. The 
long, narrow hall was dark as a pocket, but 
Harmony seemed used to it, for she unerr- 
ingly placed her book and umbrella on a 
table in the shadow and then opened the 
door at her left. 

The parlor which she entered was, if any- 
thing, darker than the hall, only the merest 
slivers of light penetrating between the 
tightly closed shutters of the old-fashioned 
blinds. The room was stuffy, and it 
smelled of medicine. 

Harmony could see nothing. Some one 
was in the room, however, for presently 
from the gloom, the soft, fretful voice said, 
“ How hot you smell, Harmonee. You 


HARMONY 1 

must have been running in the sun. How 
could you? ’’ 

The child said nothing. 

The voice continued. “Dear me! IVe 
been calling you for nobody knows how 
long? Where have you been? And Eileen, 
too. It seems as if I never could get any 
one when I want something. I might just 
as well live in a desert. Nobody cares. Ill 
as I am, and helpless, and no one nearl 
Dear me. No, don’t come any closer, child. 
You smell so hot. It’s very unpleasant to 
me when I feel so ill. This heat is killing 
me.” There was a long pause. 

Harmony remained silent, but backed her 
sun-perfumed self several steps towards the 
hall door. 

At last the mysterious voice sighed, and 
the address to Harmony was resumed. 

“Dear mel I think I really ought to 
have the doctor, only, if I should, your 
grandfather would probably be more un- 
bearable than usual. He says my doctor’s 


8 


HARMONY WINS 


bills make his pocket-book look like a slice 
of dried beef. He’s so brutal.” 

Another pause. The little audience felt 
that she was cooling off rapidly in the 
cellar-like atmosphere. 

At any rate, I’d better get some more 
of that last medicine the doctor gave me, 
Harmonee. I must have something, or I 
shall surely die. I feel terribly. Here’s 
the bottle. Tell the druggist to re-fill the 
prescription and to charge it. Dear me, 
how I dread fighting out that druggist’s 
bill with your grandfather. Seems to me 
you can hear the pennies in his pocket 
squeal, he’s so pinching.” 

She sighed. 

“Dear me, I do wish you would go, 
Harmonee, and not stand staring there like 
a numskull. And hurry back. Oh, and 
I’d like to have you go to the library, too. 
Tell the girl you want something real excit- 
ing. I must have something to take my 
mind off my suffering, or I certainly shall 


HARMONY 


9 


die. The last books you brought were very 
dull. Now run along.’’ 

The child approached, in the dusk, the 
shape that had been speaking to her, and 
felt the six-ounce medicine bottle put into 
her hand. As she pushed her way between 
two heavy plush portieres into the room be- 
yond, the irritable voice repeated, Dear 
me, I wish you would hurry, Harmonee.” 

One window, also with the blinds drawn, 
served to darken this apartment materially, 
but a broken shutter allowed enough light 
to show its untidiness. The bed was un- 
made, and bureau drawers were ajar. A 
chair by the bedside held an assortment of 
bottles, as well as a smoked lamp and two 
sticky teaspoons. A petticoat with a yard 
or so of torn lace, several stockings, and 
an odd bedroom slipper occupied the floor, 
and Harmony promptly caught her toe in 
the trailing lace. But she did not pick it 
up. Things were always out of place in 
mother’s room. 


10 


HARMONY WINS 


She finally located the books on the 
center-table under a breakfast tray littered 
with toast-crumbs and fruit-skins, her dis- 
turbance of which started a number of tiny 
flies to buzzing. 

The books discovered, Harmony reached 
the hall by another door and stumbled 
down the dark back-stairway to Eileen’s 
precincts. 

“ Eileen, Eileen,” she called. Mother’s 
up. Did you know? Her bed isn’t made 
and the room looks like sixty.” 

Sure, now,” said Eileen, appearing 
from the kitchen, she couldn’t have been 
up long. I was there to see her at three, 
meself, and her still abed. And how’s 
Dear-Me a-feelin’, darlin’?” 

‘‘ I think she’s a-dying,” said Harmony 
simply, without any apparent anxiety. 

Eileen laughed. ‘‘ You mean, she thinks 
she is. Well, I’ll go and red up her room 
and let her scold me a bit. That’ll cheer 
her.” 


HARMONY 


11 


She complained,” continued the little 
girl impressively, ‘‘ that I smelt of the sun- 
shine.” 

“ An’ why shouldn’t ye smell of sun- 
shine, I’d like to know, when you’re sun- 
shine itself, darlin’? ” and Eileen nodded so 
vigorously that a big saucy curl danced 
down into the middle of her forehead. 

‘‘Perhaps you think so, Eileen, dear,” 
answered Harmony, readjusting the li- 
brary books on her left hip. ^^You may 
think so, but who else does?” 

“ Well, there’s ” began the Irish girl 

with a great pretence of naming a list a 
yard long, when the child interrupted. 

“ Mother doesn’t.” 

Eileen shook her head promptly. 

“ Grandfather doesn’t.” 

Eileen again shook her head. 

“ I haven’t got any other relatives, have 
I?” 

“ Not as I knows of,” agreed Eileen. 

“Teacher doesn’t.” 


12 


HARMONY WINS 


'' How do you know? ” 

“O, it’s easy enough to tell when people 
like you,” answered Harmony. I can tell. 
Now, Eileen, who else is there? ” 

Eileen opened her mouth and kept it 
open, hoping for inspiration. None came. 

“ Of course there’s ’Seppy and Grig, 
but they don’t count ’specially. ’Seppy’s 
only a Dago and a grind-organ man, and 
Grig’s only a boy,” finished Harmony. 

Eileen chose to change the subject. 
‘‘ Where ye goin’? ” 

‘‘ Library, drug store.” 

Might ’a’ known, with your arms full. 
Didn’t you go yest’day?” 

Harmony nodded. ‘‘ I went to the li- 
brary in the morning and for some diffurnt 
kind of med’cine in the afternoon. Say, 
Eileen, I don’t see when she gets a chance 
to read so many books, when she stays in 
that dark room all day long.” 

Eileen laughed and chucked the ques- 
tioner under the chin. 


HARMONY 


13 


“Dear-Me reads purty near all night, 
that’s what she does. And say, darlin’, I 
haven’t a crust of bread in the house. Can’t 
you stop and get me a loaf on your way 
back, sweetheart?” 

Of course Harmony could and would, 
and so, grasping the medicine bottle with its 
sticky label, with the books tucked under 
her arm, out she went into the hot sun again. 

It wasn’t far from the Hale residence to 
either the drug store or the library, for the 
old house was quite down town, in the 
ragged, nondescript edges of the business 
district. It was in a part of the great city 
that had once been fashionable and peopled 
with the ‘‘ best.” Now, nobody in partic- 
ular lived there but the Hales, and the 
whole neighborhood was going to wrack 
and ruin. It was a community of a few 
shabby homes, several business blocks de- 
voted to printing and kindred trades, cheap 
lodging houses, small shops and saloons. 

The Hale home was the corner one of a 


14 


HARMONY WINS 


block of eight brick houses built in the un- 
comfortable fashion of three stories and a 
basement. It had been owned by Jasper 
Hale for almost fifty years. The block 
was, at present, in a shockingly dilapidated 
condition, due, people said, to the nig- 
gardliness of the landlord, who was holding 
the property until he could get a good fat 
price for the land. He had already had sev- 
eral fine offers, but he shook his shaggy 
gray head. “ Not yet,” he said. 

A number of large buildings had recently 
been reared in the vicinity, notably the 
plant of a big morning newspaper. Near 
by was a schoolhouse, one of the oldest now 
standing in the municipality, the public li- 
brary, and, just a block away, a fine hotel. 
The city’s retail shopping district was not 
far distant. 

The other houses of the block were rented 
as boarding-places or apartments for light 
housekeeping. The swarms of tenants 
were continually changing. Harmony’s 


HARMONY 


15 


house, which fronted on Elm Avenue, had a 
side entrance on Seventh Street, the only 
perceptible advantage it possessed over its 
neighbors. 

As Harmony sped upon her errands, the 
sound of music came again to her ears. It 
was after five o’clock and the fierceness of 
the day’s heat was gone. 

“ Well, thafs ’Seppy,” cried the little 
girl, breaking into a run. 

Down the street was a small crowd of 
idle children, surrounding a street piano 
which was heartily pouring forth The 
Glow-worm,” with metallic precision. At 
the crank was Giuseppe Acquaviva, fondly 
shortened to ’Seppy by his host of child 
friends. His dark eyes sparkled as they 
caught sight of the fiying figure of Har- 
mony winging its way towards him. 

Here comes ma leetla hoap-toad,” said 
he to the assembly. 

‘‘Mamie, hold my things,” commanded 
Harmony, thrusting books and bottle into 


16 


HARMONY WINS 


the first empty pair of hands she saw. 
‘‘ Now, move back a little.” 

The hop-toad, the hop-toad,” sang the 
delighted throng. 

Harmony poised herself, smiled blink- 
ingly at a low shaft of sunlight that shot 
in between the buildings and began to 
dance. 



“The hop-toai), the hop-toad,” sang the delighted throng 

Page 16 . 


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CHAPTER II 


A NAIRESS ” 

H armony never knew anything 
that went on about her while she 
was dancing. She didn’t even notice 
the admiring crowd that usually gathered 
around ’Seppy’s street piano, if only it left 
her vacant circle large enough. 

But ’Seppy noticed, for he knew that 
coppers and nickels came easily when his 
little Hop-Toad ” danced. In New 
York, among his relatives with whom he 
had emigrated to America, the value of the 
hop-toads ” was much appreciated. The 
little children who could dance were enticed 
to follow the piano, sometimes many miles, 
about the city pavements. 

’Seppy, seeking pastures new, some 

17 


HARMONY WINS. 


IS 

hundred miles west of the great metropolis, 
hailed the unsolicited services of the little 
hop-toad as the direct gift of his patron 
saint. 

Harmony hardly knew when she began, 
for ’Seppy had been an almost daily visitor 
in the neighborhood, during open weather, 
for three years past. The little girl had 
commenced with the other children, taking 
the few simple dancing steps that are cur- 
rent amongst even the poorest folk, and to 
these had added steps and postures in- 
vented under the inspiration of the music, 
until she had reached the acknowledged 
position of ’Seppy’s premiere danseuse. 
Everybody stopped to watch, :when the 
hop-toad appeared. 

Perhaps this hot August afternoon, while 
she danced so absorbedly on the sun-heated 
pavement, would be as admirable an op- 
portunity as any for a . good look at our 
little heroine. 

Should one have introduced you to her 


N AIRES 


19 


formally, you would have had no better ac- 
knowledgment than a glance, direct but 
briefj from a pair of clear gray eyes with- 
out a smile in them. For Harmony had 
never been taught manners, and it would 
not have occurred to her to extend her 
hand in token of greeting nor to dip in an 
old-fashioned curtsy. She would probably 
not have said anything, either, for she 
talked little except to her crony, Eileen. 

Usually Harmony had few smiles to 
dispense, but in dancing she considered 
them a part of the dance. On this August 
afternoon, you would have caught her with 
an expression that was very lovely, a little 
smile that made her lips curve most kiss- 
ingly. It was not directed at any person 
— if it were, that person would be hard- 
hearted indeed not to be thoroughly 
charmed. 

As a matter of fact. Harmony’s face was 
dirty, and her straight little nose and firm 
chin would have been much improved by 


20 


HARMONY WINS 


intimate contact with a thoroughly soaped 
wash-cloth. Her hair was a tousle of loose, 
light-brown curls, around which a crumpled 
green ribbon had been tied by the loving 
Eileen. The curls hung half-way down her 
back and were inextricably wound about 
the buttons of her pink-and-white checked 
gingham dress. The dress was smudgy 
and wrinkled, and the hair-wound buttons 
were the only ones it could boast. Her 
brown stockings, very imperfectly fastened 
up, made little rolls at the top of her 
shabby shoes, and coarse black darns were 
distinctly visible at both heels. 

So much for untidy, neglected little Har- 
mony Hale, posing and gesturing and 
dancing, with all the repressed enthusiasm 
of her eager child heart poured out into 
the gentle grace of forest dryads and the 
piquant witchery of winged fairies. 

The music stopped, and the sudden sharp 
tinkling of broken glass awoke the hop- 
toad from her ecstasy. 


21 


NAIRESS^^ 

The medicine bottle! Mother’s errands! 

Mamie, in her pleasure at Harmony’s 
performance, had tried to clap the hands 
already occupied with bottle and books, to 
the destruction of the former. It lay in 
fragments on the pavement. 

Harmony stood in mute tragedy. How 
was she to get the prescription re-filled if 
the bottle was destroyed! But quick in al- 
ternatives, she dropped to her knees and 
picked up the bits of broken glass that still 
clung together where the label had been 
pasted. 

I can take these to the drug store man, 
only — only the bottle will cost extra,” she 
mourned. 

‘‘Leetla hoap-toad,” said a soft Italian 
voice in her ear, “ no weep. So sorra I am. 
You dance so lika ze angel for me. Heere 
ees money. You buy new bottla.” ’Seppy 
put into her hand a dime, and smiled. 

''Oh, thank you,” said Harmony, very 
much surprised; and, conscience-stricken at 


22 


HARMONY WINS 


the lateness of the hour, she hurried away 
upon her belated errands. 

Nothing further happened to add to her 
anxiety, for the prescription clerk easily 
made out the number of the medicine from 
the broken bits, and refused to take any 
money for the new bottle. 

I guess I can give such a good cus- 
tomer as you a new bottle without bankrupt- 
ing the store,” he said generously. “ How’s 
your mother, to-day? ” 

“ She’s dying, I guess,” answered Har- 
mony. 

Pshaw, that’s too bad,” he exclaimed, 
as if the little girl had not told him the same 
sad news dozens of other times. 

‘‘Yes, and she may be dead by now,” 
continued Harmony sadly, “ because she 
told me to hurry, and ’Seppy came along 
with his street piano, and I forgot and be- 
gan to dance — and — and I’m so late now, 
perhaps she’s died already.” 

“ Oh, I wouldn’t worry if I were in your 


N AIRES S 


23 


place,” reassured the clerk, as he wrapped 
the bottle in pink paper and fastened it at 
top and bottom with dabs of sealing wax. 

Then she hastened to the library. Few 
people were there because it was most 
everybody’s supper time. 

The young lady in the fiction depart- 
ment looked dubious. 

“ Something exciting? Why, let’s see. 
Seems as if she’d had every detective story 
in the library and most of the tales of ad- 
venture.” 

Harmony followed her earnestly fromi 
shelf to shelf, her face full of concern. 

“ She said she guessed she’d die if she 
• didn’t have something to take her mind off 
her suffering.” 

The young lady shrugged her shoulders. 

‘‘ Well, dear, we’ll do the best we can,” 
she said, and briskly marked down the two 
books she finally selected. 

Nor did Harmony forget the loaf of 
bread, but added that to her armful as she 


24 HARMONY WINS 

passed the corner grocery a short distance 
from home. 

By this time it was dusk, and Harmony’s 
worry had increasd at a terrible rate. She 
ran clumsily, tears blinding her eyes, sobs 
aching in her throat. Oh, oh, if she hadn’t 
forgotten and danced so long — and mother 
waiting for her medicine! 

At a corner near home, she ran plump 
into a gray-haired man who was coming 
along at a great pace. 

“Here, here,” he growled at her, taking 
her by the arm and swinging her out of his 
way. “Whom are you running into, 'you 
little scamp? ” 

It was her grandfather, and he didn’t 
know her in the half-light. Harmony did 
not wait to explain. She ran on to the 
paved area-way, down the steps, and burst 
into Eileen’s hot kitchen. 

“ Oh, Eileen, is she dead yet, tell me, 
Eileen, tell me quick — mother?” gasped 
the child, white-faced and teary. 


N AIRES 


25 


“Little silly, is who dead?’’ asked 
Eileen. “ Whatever is the matter with 
ye?” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad.” Harmony sat down. 
“ Here’s your bread, Eileen, and I’m so 
hungry and thirsty. I want my supper.” 

“You’re a little goosey-gander, that’s 
what,” said Eileen, unwrapping the bread 
and beginning to slice off wholesome white 
slabs. “ When Dear-Me’s that sick that 
we’re out for watchers. I’ll tell ye straight. 
Just you trust your old Eileen.” She 
whisked into the dining-room with her 
plate of bread and a pitcher of milk. 
“Now’ll ye promise not to get yerself into 
a stew again?” she shouted, as she set the 
things down on the red-checked cloth, with 
a resounding thump. 

Harmony followed. 

“ Oughtn’t I to take her med’cine right 
up to her now?” she asked, relinquishing 
her worry by degrees. 

“ After supper,” said Eileen, “ I’ll take 


26 


HARMONY WINS 


the whole kit of stuff up to her, bottle and 
books and lamp, too. She’s had her supper, 
and she’s prob’ly asleep, or her bell’d be 
buzzing for all it’s worth. Eat your supper, 
child.” 

The gas, mingled with the stale, hot air 
of the dying day, made the room close and 
uncomfortable, but both Eileen and Har- 
mony were used to these conditions and sat 
cheerfully down to the frugal meal. 

Bread and milk for us, and your grand- 
father gone out to get a whacking big din- 
ner at the rest’rant. To be sure, it saves 
me from sweltering over the hot stove, and 
I think your complexion’ll be a sight better 
for eatin’ bread and milk. Harmony. 
You’ve got a nice skin, child, and you’d 
best take care of it.” 

‘'But bread and milk’s good,” answered 
the little girl, spooning away with energy, 
careless of complexion, but hungry as a 
hawk. 

Eileen, pottering over a cup of much- 


N AIRES 27 

cooked tea and her bread and butter, gazed 
affectionately at the child opposite her, 

‘‘ To look at you, now,” she said, smil* 
ing across at the serious gray eyes, “ eatin’ 
your bread and milk so contented-like, in 
that faded old gingham dress, one’d never 
guess at your bein’ a nairess.” 

Harmony gulped a spoonful to ask 
eagerly, “What’s a nairess?” 

Eileen was puzzled. “ My, ain’t nobody 
ever told you that you’re a nairess?” she 
questioned to gain time, “ your grand- 
father’s? ” 

“ Nope. Has it anything to do with his 
being a miser?” 

Eileen laughed. 

“ Not unless that you’ll get a bigger 
fortune just because he is so stingy.” 

“Do you mean,” asked Harmony, at 
length understanding Eileen to mean 
heiress, “ that when Grandather dies. I’ll 
have all his money? ” 

“ Sure. That’s what I mean.” 


28 


HARMONY WINS 


“ Is that much? ” asked the child. 

“ They say it’s heaps and heaps, an- 
swered the young woman, lowering her 
voice mysteriously. 

“ Oh,” said Harmony, “ so that’s what 
they mean when the boys holler after him, 
‘Miser, miser, mean and old, where d’you 
hide your piles o’ gold? ’ If somebody else 
should find his piles o’ gold, I wouldn’t be 
much of an heiress, would I?” 

“No, I s’pose not,” responded Eileen, 
picking up her teapot and preparing to 
clear away the dishes. “ Mercy, child, you 
do think of such queer things.” 

Harmony sat dreamily staring out of the 
low windows, where, in the twilight, she 
could see only the feet of men and the 
skirts of women passing. 

“What does he hide his piles o’ gold 
for? ” she asked Eileen, who was going 
noisily back and forth. 

“ Sakes alive, how should I know? ” 
came the answer, almost crossly, “an’ me 


N AIRES 


29 


strugglin’ to make both ends meet on the 
few dollars he allows me for the housekeep- 
in’, and his only grandchild goin’ around 
lookin’ like a rag-bag.” 

Remarks about her personal appear- 
ance failed as yet to arouse any kind of in- 
terest in Harmony. She still dreamed, 
with her elbows planted firmly on the red 
checks. 

“I think I’ll begin to hunt for them,” 
she said finally. ‘‘ Wouldn’t it be exciting, 
Eileen, to come across a secret chamber, 
and when one opened the door, softly and 
slowly, and pee-e-eked in, to see the shin- 
ing piles o’ gold all heaped up and running 
over from the chests and the sacks? O-oo- 
00, Eileen, wouldn’t you love to be with me 
when I find his treasure? ” 

“ Get out with ye,” laughed Eileen, 
‘^you’ve been readin’ too many stories. 
Nobody but id jits keeps gold in their 
houses nowadays. Sane folks, if they have 
any, put it into the bank.” 


30 


HARMONY WINS 


Harmony smiled. 

‘‘ I don’t care, Eileen; it makes something 
exciting to think about, and that’s the best 
of all. As long as I can have nice stories 
to think out, it doesn’t matter so much 
about Dear-Me and Grandfather not lov- 
ing me. I’ve got the sweetest story I tell 
myself, about a lovely lady who is my pre- 
tend mamma and loves me most to death. 
I found the picture of her one day, in a 
box that Dear-Me gave me. I think about 
her nights, when I go to bed. I’ll show her 
to you some time. You don’t suppose 
Dear-Me would care, if she knew I told 
myself this beautiful story of a pretend 
mamma, do you?” 

Eileen didn’t answer the child, but her 
attitude, as she stood near the window, was 
a listening one, so Harmony went on. 

‘‘ Now I’ve got a new story to tell my- 
self, all about being an heiress. That’ll be 
lots of fun, Eileen, ’cause being an heiress 
is almost as good as being a fairy princess, 


N AIRES 


31 


isn’t it? Oh, and I’m going to think up a 
story about hunting for Grandfather’s piles 
o’ gold. He won’t mind, will he, Eileen? 
You don’t s’pose he’d call it meddling, do 
you? ’Specially if I didn’t touch anything 
— ^just thought about it? ” 

“ Well, he’d be a worse old curmudgeon 
than he is now, if he should mind your 
dreamin’ about his piles o’ gold, as you call 
’em. Ain’t it most your bedtime? I’m ex- 
pectin’ company to-night.” 

‘‘Oh!” Harmony jumped to her feet 
with alacrity. “All right, Eileen. Good 
night. Shall I take the things up to Dear- 
Me?” 

But Eileen said, “ No,” and the child 
trudged off contentedly to her small room 
on the second floor at the back, far removed 
from the rest of the household. 

The other rooms on this floor were closed. 
Each month Grandfather threatened to 
rent them out to lodgers, and each month 
Eileen threatened to depart without notice 


32 


HARMONY WINS 


if she had to take care of lodgers’ rooms. 

So the second floor remained untenanted 
except by the child who now found her way 
down the dim corridor to the small, untidy 
apartment at the end, which was her own 
domain. 

Still in the dark, but a dark that she 
loved, the little girl got herself ready for 
bed. The August moon silvered every- 
thing, indoors and out, with a soft radiance. 

At last Harmony unfolded a tissue- 
paper package that had been tucked for 
safekeeping under her pillow, and kissed, 
with the fervour of a warm-hearted and 
love-hungry child, the photograph so care- 
fully preserved. Then hiding it away 
again, she disposed herself for the happy 
period of dreaming awake, until dreaming 
asleep carried her into higher realms of 
bliss. 


CHAPTER III 


THE TREASUEE CHAMBER 

W HEN Harmony awoke next morn- 
ing, the last thought of the night 
before came back to her. She 
determined that, instead of thinking a story 
about Grandfather’s hidden piles of gold, 
she would act it out. It would make a 
splendid game. Not that she really ex- 
pected to find a treasure, but there was ex- 
citement in exploring for it, even in an old, 
ramshackle city house that didn’t look as if 
it had any secrets to conceal more than the 
mice’s nests behind the baseboards. 

The little girl dressed rapidly, and not 
remembering to wash her face or eat her 
breakfast, started on her voyage of dis- 
covery. 

Eileen wondered where she was, but as 

33 


34 


HARMONY WINS 


Harmony came and went, from day’s end 
to day’s end, during the vacation, as her 
whim dictated, she only knew that the child 
would appear when she was hungry, and 
gave her no more thought. 

The careful examination of every dusty 
old room made Harmony’s morning pass 
thrillingly. There were three rooms on her 
floor, half furnished, with bare floors and 
dingy wall paper, airless, cobwebby, and al- 
together uninviting. But with the en- 
thusiasm of an adventurer. Harmony 
searched every nook and cranny, tapped on 
the walls for hidden rooms and closets, 
peered up narrow, sooty chimneys, crept 
around on her hands and knees, examining 
every floor for a loose board or trap door. 
She had a grand time until about noon, 
when, smitten with a sudden emptiness in 
the middle of her body, she suddenly re- 
membered that she hadn’t eaten a mouthful 
that day. 

“What a sight you are!” exclaimed 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 35 


Eileen, as Harmony appeared, smooched 
and begrimed from her curly head to her 
ragged heels. 

‘‘ I don’t care, and I sha’n’t change my 
dress either, Eileen, because I haven’t half 
finished hunting, and I shall get all mussy 
again if I should,” she said, anticipating 
the young woman’s recommendation of a 
clean frock. 

“What you lost?” inquired her friend, 
bustling about with the dinner that was the 
best she could do on Jasper Hale’s meager 
allowance. 

“Oh, Eileen, you’re positively no good! 
Couldn’t you guess that I’ve been hunting 
for Grandfather’s piles o’ gold? I’ve been 
over every inch of the second floor, and 
next I’m going to do the first fioor, and, if 
I dare. Grandfather’s own room at the 
back. I s’pose I’ll have an awful time get- 
ting a chance to do Dear-Me’s rooms.” 

“ You’re a silly if you try to do them. 
Your grandather wouldn’t trust a penny 


36 


HARMONY WINS 


with a hole in it near Dear-Me. You 
wouldn’t catch him hiding a pin in her 
rooms, and you know it.” 

Harmony looked up from her glass of 
milk, a white moustache adorning her 
upper lip. 

“ I guess you’re right, Eileen, and 
prob’ly he wouldn’t hide it down here in 
the basement where you might get it, 
either.” 

Eileen sniffed. 

“ Well, he trusts me with the household 
money, anyway.” 

“ Yes, dear,” said Harmony, feeling 
she’d made some mistake, but not knowing 
exactly how she had offended Eileen. 

“ And don’t you let him catch you prowl- 
ing in his room, either, or you’ll get fits. 
He won’t let anybody but his mean little 
dogs in that office of his.” 

Harmony said nothing. Privately, she 
had planned examining even that forbidden 
spot. 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 37 


“ Then there’s the third floor and the 
attic,” she continued, at length. ‘‘ I wonder 
how many days it will take me. It’s very 
exciting,” she confided to Eileen between 
bites, “ very. Do you think Grig would 
enjoy searching for the treasure, too? ” 

Grig was the boy who lived next door, 
somewhere between the basement and the 
roof, but just where, Harmony had never 
found out. He sold papers, and went to 
the same school with her, although he was 
in a higher grade. He liked the little girl, 
after a fashion of his own, and they were 
sometimes good companions, according to 
Grig’s mood. 

Grig got his name from an unconquer- 
able habit of grinning. An old-fashioned 
neighbor had said he was as merry as a 
grig.” Nobody seemed to know exactly 
what a grig might be, but the nickname ap- 
peared to fit him, and the boy himself 
rather preferred it to Jason, given him in 
baptism. 


38 


^HARMONY WINS 


“ Don’t you be after draggin’ Grig all 
over this house,” said Eileen irritably. 
“ Grigg in the street is all right, but I 
don’t want him in the house. Do you 
hear? ” 

Harmony did. 

“ He’d prob’ly want to be the captain of 
the expedition,” she said loftily, agreeing 
with Eileen from her own point of view, 
“ and I’d much rather do the bossing my- 
self.” 

She whisked off upstairs again, tiptoeing 
softly to the door of Grandfather’s “ of- 
fice,” as it was grandly called, to see if the 
coast was clear. 

As she pushed the door open, a sharp 
yap and an ugly little snarl came from the 
occupants, who were no jfriends of Har- 
mony’s. 

It was not an inviting reception for the 
intruder when Zip, the black and tan, stood 
in one chair, tearing his throat with un- 
friendly barking, and Mose, the skye, lay 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 39 


crouched in his cushion, his eyes peering 
warily beneath his tangled bang, growling 
in very ugly fashion. And his growl really 
meant hite. For Mose was hatefully re- 
served in his friendships, and had to be put 
on a shelf, literally, when visitors ventured 
into Mr. Hale’s office. 

Harmony stood her ground as far as the 
threshold, and looked at the little dogs. 

You’re hateful little beasts,” she said 
aloud, ‘‘ but I’d love you if you’d let 
me.” 

Zip sat down and yapped fitfully, and 
Mose, seeing she came no further, stopped 
growling and lifted his nose an inch or 
two, still eying her from under his forelock. 

Harmony looked long at the room; a 
desk in the corner, almost concealed be- 
neath piles of dusty papers and books; 
other articles of furniture snowed under by 
accumulations that hadn’t been moved in 
years; a cane-seated chair with the bottom 
splintered out, into which Zip’s cushion was 


40 


HARMONY WINS 


stuffed; an arm-chair covered with black 
horse hair, bristling uncomfortably in 
places and possessing only one arm; over 
all dust, like gray powder, except where 
finger-tips had recently rested, making 
dark little pits and furrows. An air of 
mustiness and stuffiness indescribable per- 
vaded this uninviting room, and Har- 
mony’s courage was daunted. 

I couldn’t hunt here at all, unless I 
first got rid of the dogs; and then, s’posing 
I could, he’d know everything I touched, 
by the dust. No, it’s no use,” and she 
pulled the door to and tramped disappoint- 
edly up the next flight of stairs. 

Solemnly and laboriously, she examined 
the floor above the one where her room was 
located, shirking no corner as too dusty or 
improbable. About five o’clock she was 
ready for the attic. 

Harmony couldn’t recall when she’d 
been up this last flight of stairs, and surely 
Eileen did not frequent them. Yet the 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 41 


dust was no thicker here, if as thick as else- 
where. Harmony noticed that the banisters 
were quite clean. 

At the top of the flight was a tall gate 
with iron bars, covered with wide-meshed 
netting. 

Harmony shook it, but it was locked. 

Here, here, at last, must be the hiding- 
place of those piles of gold. Here, like in 
her favorite fairy tales, was the iron-barred 
door of the treasure chamber in the tower 
of the castle. 

How to get in? That was the important 
question. 

Harmony sat down on the top step of the 
staircase and pondered. The key was 
needed, but where was the key? Either in 
Grandfather’s own pocket or in the desk 
of the office guarded by the two little 
dragons. Zip and Mose. 

A key! 

Suddenly Harmony was pelting down- 
stairs like a chased rabbit. She had keys. 


42 


HARMONY WINS 


hundreds of them. Why shouldn’t she have 
one that would fit the gate? 

From under her bed she dragged a 
wooden box that tinkled with the sound of 
metal. In it were keys, countless keys, of 
every size and shape. 

This collection Harmony had been mak- 
ing for years. A key had a sort of magic 
value to her. It meant power, it meant 
mystery. Every one of these keys that she 
fingered now was made to open something. 
If only she could find that something! She 
had made up stories about most of them. 
Even the room keys, that looked very much 
alike and were the least interesting in the 
lot, had worth to her. 

No one had ever provided Harmony 
with toys, and this was the way she had 
provided herself. Keys and other odd 
treasures had taken the place of dolls and 
toys made especially for little girls. The 
question was whether she did not enjoy her 
self “gotten playthings, about which she had 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 43 


all sorts of pleasant imaginings, quite as 
much as the ordinary child enjoys her 
boughten things. 

Sorting over the clinking mass, with af- 
fectionate fingers. Harmony chose the pos- 
sibilities, dropped them into the lap of her 
frock, and ascended again to the attic under 
the mansard roof. 

How long she worked she did not know, 
but just as it was getting almost too dark 
to see, she picked up the last key but two. 
It went into the lock as if that were its 
home. It turned easily in the girl’s eager 
fingers and clicked. 

‘‘ Oh, goody, goody! It’s the key to the 
treasure chamber,” she laughed, as she 
jerked open the heavy gate. 

The door of the room back of the gate 
yielded to a key like those of the down- 
stairs bedrooms, and Harmony pushed it 
wide. 

It was almost dusk, but she could see that 
the apartment in which she stood was very 


44 


HARMONY WINS 


big. It ran the full depth of the house, 
and Harmony could scarcely distinguish 
the further wall. In the twilight she tip- 
toed around, trying to make out what sort 
of a place it was. 

There were no piles of gold glittering in 
half-open chests. It wasn’t the treasure 
chamber she had been looking for, but it 
was full of interest. 

There was a great deal of furniture, very 
odd and different from any she had ever 
seen. She stumbled against a spinning- 
wheel and set the wheel turning slowly. 
On the walls were guns and arrows and 
pistols and swords. There were also pic- 
tures and flags, and many glass cases, such 
as she had seen in stores, were fastened 
against the walls and stood on tables. 
These were full of articles that Harmony 
couldn’t see plainly in the falling darkness. 

Suddenly she jumped and squealed, 
‘‘ Oh!” 

There, in a corner, stood a man. 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 45 


Harmony wasn’t exactly frightened, but 
the man was certainly unexpected. 

She came closer to him. 

Are you the guardian of all these treas- 
ures?” she asked. 

The man did not stir nor speak. 

She came still closer. 

‘‘ Say,” she said loudly, “ do you take 
care of these things? ” 

She peered up into his face. It was 
shaded by an odd, three-cornered hat. 

Then Harmony laughed out loud. 

“My, but you did fool me, you queer 
old figure-thing,” she exclaimed. “ I really 
did think you were alive. I guess you are 
guardian of these treasures, after all, for 
you’ve got a sword and a pistol. What 
shall I call you, hero-o’-mine or man-o’- 
war? ” 

She examined the tall figure as well as 
she could in the dim light. “ Why, you’re 
a revolutionary man, aren’t you? I shall 
call you ‘ hero-o’-mine.’ ” 


46 


HARMONY WINS 


Just at that instant, a flash of light from 
a big electric arc in the street sent a shaft 
of whiteness into the room. It almost 
seemed as if the figure smiled at the quaint 
little girl addressing him. 

“ I guess it’s getting late, and I must 
go,” said Harmony, nodding at her mute 
friend. ‘‘ It must be time for supper.” 

She started back towards the door, but 
stopped many times and finally sat down 
on an old sofa and clasped her hands about 
her knees. 

“I think this is a splendid treasure 
room,” she said thoughtfully. “ It’s so full 
of things, queer things. I think it’s rather 
nicer than the piles o’ gold — ^yes, I think it’s 
ever so much nicer. I wonder if all these 
things are Grandfather’s and if he’ll be mad 
at me if I play here? ” 

The electric light flashed and waned, and 
flashed and waned, while Harmony sat and 
dreamed* 

Finally, with a sigh, she rose to go. 


THE TREASURE CHAMBER 47 


The door was latched. She opened it 
and found the gate fastened. It had swung 
slowly to and locked with a spring. 

Harmony was a prisoner in the treasure 
chamber! 


CHAPTER IV 


habmont's vision 

H ARMONY’S first feeling was, nat- 
urally, one of fright. She caught 
her fingers in the iron meshes of the 
gate and shook it and screamed. 

Her voice echoed ’ weirdly through the 
upper hall, but she was well aware that it 
could not penetrate to the rooms on the 
ground floor. No, she couldn’t possibly 
make Grandfather and Dear-Me hear, — 
and come to think of it, she didn’t want to. 
Grandfather would surely be hopping mad 
if he found her in his treasure chamber, and 
her mother would only whine, ‘‘Dear me, 
what a nuisance that child is ! What do you 
suppose she is shouting for, now?” and 
she’d ring her bell for Eileen to find out. 


HAEMONY’S VISION 


49 


How about Eileen? Harmony then re- 
membered that the girl was going out to the 
beach that evening with her young man. 
Of course, she must have been gone some 
time. 

Harmony fumbled with the big lock, but 
there was nothing she could do. The key 
was on the outside, and had probably 
jounced down upon the floor when the gate 
swung to. The little girl gave the barrier 
a rather spiteful last shake, and surrend- 
ered. 

‘‘ Humph,” she grunted, a little breath- 
less after the shouting and shaking, ’spect 
I’ve got to stay here all night. Oh, well, I 
don’t care. Only I wish I’d had my sup- 
per. 

She wandered back into the long room. 
The electric light poured its white radiance 
over all, but the shadows were very black. 
Although Harmony was good friends with 
the dark and thought the place looked ex- 
tremely interesting in this light, still there 


50 


HARMONY WINS 


was an eerie quality about the room, that 
was different from any place she had ever 
been before. 

As she passed the huge mahogany and 
hair-cloth sofa, she patted it softly. “ I’m 
going to sleep on you, by and by, you nice, 
old, slippery thing, you.” 

She actually laughed at her plight. 

“ If I wasn’t just a little bit hungry,” 
she said to herself bravely, I should think 
it was great fun — a regular adventure. I 
never guessed there was anything so ro- 
mantic in this ugly old house.” 

She peered out of the high windows, too 
high for her to look into the street unless 
she stood in a chair. As long as she was to 
spend the night there, she concluded to open 
the windows. She pushed up two, and the 
air of the room was soon much clearer and 
fresher. A wide ledge with an eavestrough 
ran along in front, from the Hale’s house 
to the next and straight on to the end of 
the row. 


HARMONY’S VISION 


51 


Perhaps,” said Harmony to herself, her 
arms on the sill and her chin upon them, 

perhaps Grig lives in the next attic, and 
if I should holler real loud, he’d hear 
me.” 

She glanced back into the room. 

No. I’ll wait till morning and see 
:what happens. I can play I’m cast away 
on a desert island, or locked a prisoner in a 
tall castle tower. My, but this is fun! 
When I tell Grig what happened to me all 
to-day and to-night, he’ll — she’ll wish he’d 
been here, too.” 

Suddenly a thought struck her. “Oh, 
dear, I’m afraid I daren’t tell Grig a word 
about it, after all, for I couldn’t possibly 
bring him up here, on account of Grand- 
father. Grandfather might even be angry 
at me for breaking into his treasure cham- 
ber.” 

A little depressed at the thought. Har- 
mony turned back to the room. 

“ Hero-o’-mine,” she said, approaching 


52 


HARMONY WINS 


the figure of the Revolutionary soldier, 
“ Hero-o’-mine, I place myself in your care. 
You must protect me from the wrath of the 
guardian of this castle. Will you?” 

She put her hand on the figure, which 
was made of wood and had joints, and 
found that she could move him about like 
a nuge doll. His face was of wax, and he 
had a wig with a queue, like pictures she 
had seen. For half an hour she played 
with him, moving his hands and arms into 
all sorts of amusing attitudes. Finally, she 
left him with his hand to his head in salute. 

Then, just because she continued to have 
a queer little feeling that she wouldn’t con- 
fess to herself was fear, she began a regular 
exploration. 

Each time she plunged into one of the 
shadows, she had to swallow hard on the 
lump in her throat, and her heart would 
give two or three hard beats like a signal. 
There were little sounds in the room, faint 
rustlings and slidings, as if, somehow, there 



“ HkRO-O’-MINE, I PLACE MYSELF IN YOUR CARE .” — Page 52. 




I • 


A i 


HARMONY^S VISION 53 

was a presence that mortal eyes could not 
see. 

Once Harmony put her hand upon what 
seemed a table, and was thoroughly fright- 
ened for a moment when a clear metallic 
note fell upon the air. She waited to still 
the beating in her breast, then courageously 
touched the thing again. A different note 
sounded this time. 

She pulled the piece of furniture out into 
the broad beam of electric light. There it 
was revealed, a tiny piano! Harmony rec- 
ognized it. 

“A spinet, a real little spinet!” she ex- 
claimed and touched the narrow yellowed 
ivories of the short keyboard, almost rever- 
ently. The noises produced were music 
only to the child, and echoed sharply 
through the large room. 

In the wall cases hung a number of faded 
and ragged silk flags, gold-fringed, and 
many soldiers’ garments. Some queer high 
old boots with great iron spurs stood in one 


54 


HARMONY WINS 


case, with a saddle, saddle-cloth and bridle. 

In a corner of the room there was a stack 
of bayonets, and, as Harmony approached 
them, her foot struck something that moved 
and rumbled like far away thunder. As 
she looked, with hands clasped to her mouth 
so she shouldn’t cry out, a big black ball 
rolled out into the light. A cannon ball! 
Painted on it in white letters was: 
‘‘WHITE PLAINS, 1776.” 

Slowly the meaning of the whole room 
began to dawn upon the child. A picture 
on the wall gave her the secret. It was 
named, “ The Spirit of Sixty-Six.” The 
light from the window fell full upon it. 
Harmony searched its meaning eagerly. 

The central figure was a young man, his 
face uplifted as though he saw a vision. He 
was dressed in a soldier’s uniform. A 
woman was buckling on his sword. Was 
it his wife? No, his mother, for the wife 
knelt at his side, kissing his hand, and his 
children stood wonderingly at one side of 


HARMONY^S VISION 


55 


the room. At the back, in the open door- 
way, a comrade was entering, hurriedly, 
urging haste. 

“He is going to war!” whispered Har- 
mony. “ Our war. To fight for us. I 
know.” 

Perhaps no one could appreciate the sen- 
timent of the picture better than the little 
girl whose studies at school had just begun 
to kindle that ineffable flame of patriotism, 
that burns so valiantly in youth. 

“ I know you,” she whispered to the cen- 
tral figure in the picture, “You are the 
patriot. Grandfather has kept your clothes, 
and your horse’s saddle, and the flag you 
saved.” 

She crept up on a great chest that stood 
before the picture and looked long at the 
impassioned face of the young man going 
forth to war. 

“ It must be very grand to be a man and 
able to save your country. I wish I knew 
all your story.” 


56 


HARMONY WINS 


She slid off the chest, and as she did so, 
its great size and strength caught her atten- 
tion. It was almost black in color, and 
carven with figures of fruits and flowers 
and Cupids. It had a big brass lock and 
brass corners. 

‘‘ I believe,” she murmured, addressing 
the chest, “ I just believe the secret’s locked 
up in you.” 

She tried the lid, but it was very heavy, 
and Harmony concluded it was locked. 

Never you mind,” she assured it in her 
low whisper. “ I shall come again and 
steal your secret. I must know all about 
this wonderful room.” 

She slowly turned away from the chest 
and the picture and approached the wooden 
soldier, who continued to salute her gravely. 

Now, good night, hero-o’-mine,” she 
said softly. “ I’m getting sleepy, and the 
old sofa is calling, ‘ Sweet dreams. Har- 
mony.’ Say you’ll take good care of 
me.” 


HARMONY’S VISION 57 

At her touch, the figure bent its head 
slightly. 

“ That’s right. Good night.” She 
reached up and patted his waxen cheek, 
“ Good night.” 

Then she curled herself up on the big 
sofa. If it was slippery, it was also cool. 
She took off her dress and spread it out on 
the couch so that the hair-cloth would not 
prick her cheek. 

But it was very light in the room, and 
Harmony was still excited. She could not 
go to sleep, but lay and stared at the queer 
shadows and the strange shapes the treas- 
ures took. 

The faint rustlings continued. Har- 
mony chose not to attribute these delicate 
sounds to the mild breeze that came in at 
the open windows. No, she preferred to 
call it an unseen presence. 

It’s the Spirit of Seventy-Six,” she 
thought. ‘‘ It’s like a fairy. No one can 
see it, but it’s here just the same. It stays 


58 


HARMONY WINS 


with all these strange old things. It’s what 
made that soldier a hero. It’s what makes 
people do great deeds. It’s courage. It’s 
patriotism. It’s very wonderful. It burns 
in your heart and then the light comes in 
your face, and then you do something noble. 
And people love you for it, and they keep 
all the things you wore and the things you 
used, in remembrance. And a little of the 
spirit stays with them always.” 

She took a sleepy survey of the room, 
then closed her eyes. 

^‘How Grandfather must love these 
things, to save them and lock them away in 
a treasure chamber all these years,” she 
mused, reaching, by her child’s pure sym- 
pathy, one of the secrets of Grandfather’s 
gruff and worn old heart. 

‘‘ When he knows I love them, too, he’ll 
forgive me for breaking into his treasure 
chamber,” she reassured herself. Then her 
interest returned to the meaning of it all. 

‘‘ I wonder when I shall know all about 


HARMONY^S VISION 59 

it. I wonder if the secret’s in the chest. 
Was the hero one of Grandfather’s ances- 
tors? Why, he’d be one of mine, then, too! 
Oh, how wonderful to have had a hero in 
the family — a man who was brave, who did 
great deeds. I wonder if hero’s children’s 
children are brave, too. Am I brave? 
Could I do something wonderful, such as 
saving my country? Do girls ever do 
things like that? Oh, I’d love to try. I’d 
like to have that wonderful look in my face! 

And have every — every — body — ^love ” 

Harmony was fast asleep. 


CHAPTER V 


THE ESCAPE 

I T was puzzling to awake in the long 
treasure chamber the next morning. 
Harmony blinked, and rubbed her 
eyes. Then she sat up and stared. She 
couldn’t remember ever waking up in any 
room other than the back one on the second 
floor. 

The treasure chamber looked very dif- 
ferent by daylight. It was dusty and clut- 
tered, but Harmony decided, as she slipped 
into her dirty gingham frock, twisting and 
struggling to fasten its few buttons, that it 
was, if anything, more full of interest than 
she had thought. 

How many things she had overlooked in 
the dark! The small articles in the table 
cases, for instance. 


THE ESCAPE 


61 


Among the yellowed manuscripts and 
letters, frayed at the edges, were preserved 
a big, fat gold watch and a fob heavy with 
seals and keys ; a snuff box with the picture 
of a handsome man on the lid, and a little 
white satin shoe, that had belonged to some 
dainty lady, the satin now the color of the 
spinet’s keys. 

0 dear. I’ll never, never get through 
looking,” sighed Harmony. 

The little fear that had caught her throat 
last night was all gone. 

She pushed the cannon ball with her toe 
and sent it thundering across the floor on 
a long journey. 

1 was afraid of that, last night, hero-o’- 
mine,” she remarked confidentially to the 
wooden soldier. ‘‘ Wasn’t I a silly? ” 

She nodded at him merrily. “ I want to 
thank you for keeping me safe,” she con- 
tinued. 

She examined him critically by the sunny 
daylight. Time had robbed his cheeks of 


62 


HARMONY WINS 


all their ruddiness, and moths had eaten lit- 
tle holes and furrows in his regimental gar- 
ments. The trusty sword was rusted tight 
into its scabbard, 

“Dear, dear, poor fellow. I don’t ad- 
mire you nearly as much as I did last night,” 
she confessed, “ but I love you even more. 

You used to be so fine, and now ” She 

just patted the pale cheek in sympathy. 

“ Some day, you shall tell me all your 
wonderful story. I’m sure it’s fascinat- 
ing.” 

She wandered over to the chest and 
tugged at its heavy lid. It gave a little 
to her strength, so that she knew it wasn’t 
locked, after all. 

“ But I really can’t stop now,” she con- 
tinued, nodding over her shoulder. “ Hero- 
o’-mine, I’m dreadfully hungry this very 
minute. I must make my escape from this 
terrible prison. You wouldn’t like to see 
me starving to death before your very eyes, 
would you? ” 


THE ESCAPE 63 

She laughed, but a serious look came into 
her face. 

"" I must get ouV’ she said to herself. 
“ 111 come again. Oh, yes, 111 come again, 
perhaps this very day, but I must get out 
now. I’m — I’m hungry!” She blinked fast. 

She ran first to the door and opened it. 
The iron gate was still locked. Should she 
shout? What good would that do? The 
window! That was the place. 

She hurried to one of the windows, drag- 
ging a chair noisily behind her. She 
climbed up, and, by lying on her stomach 
across the sill, could just peek over the edge 
of the parapet. She stared down into the 
street. Not a soul was in sight, not even 
Grig. She had hoped to see him. 

Harmony was getting desperate, and she 
decided not to wait on his chance appear- 
ance. Yes, she would call him. 

She filled her lungs and then let go a 
piercing yell. 

‘‘Grig, Grig! Oh — oh, Gri — i — ig!” 


64 HARMONY WINS 

She waited what seemed to her time 
enough for him to arrive from the ends of 
the earth, and shouted again. 

‘‘ Grig! ” 

Then she nearly fell out of the window 
from sheer surprise, for a voice very close 
to her said suddenly, “ For the land’s sake, 
Harmony, don’t shout so. You’d wake the 
dead!” 

A tousled head with the blackest hair im- 
aginable, a pair of twinkling brown eyes, 
and a wide, grinning mouth, was peering 
at her from the window next door, not six 
feet away. 

“ Oh, Grig, how you frightened me ! ” 
she exclaimed. 

Well, what do you want, shouting a 
fellow out of bed at this hour of the morn- 
ing?” 

‘‘What time is it?” 

“ Not more’n half-past four, and, unless 
you tell me what you want, quick, I’m for 
my downy couch again.” 


THE ESCAPE 


65 


Is that your room? ” asked Harmony 
irrelevantly. 

“ Sure. Good night.” The black head 
disappeared. 

‘‘ Oh, Grig,” came the appealing call. 

‘‘ Well,” answered a voice, no head show- 
ing, ‘‘ I said I was going back to bed.” 

“ But I’m so hungry. Grig. I haven’t 
had any supper or breakfast.” 

Well, who’s to blame? Why don’t you 
go and get ’em? Eileen ain’t exactly dead 
or disappeared, is she?” 

No, but I’m a prisoner, locked in.” 

The head reappeared, and the grin deep- 
ened. 

‘‘ Jiminy fishhooks, what a lark! Who 
locked you in? ” 

‘‘ I did.” 

‘‘You? How?” 

“Never you mind, Griggetty-Grig. I 
want to escape, that’s what. I’m hungry.” 

“ I’ll come right over in a minute and a 
half,” and the head disappeared once more. 


66 HARMONY WINS 

*^Grig — ^you can’t!” shouted Harmony. 

Grig’s head popped out again. 

‘‘Well, I’d like to know why not?” 

“ ’Cause if Eileen or Dear-Me or Grand- 
father saw you, you’d cratch it! ” 

Grig snorted his indignation. 

“ Who’s afraid? ” be jeered. Finally he 
suggested, “ Well, s’pose you wait till 
Eileen’s up. Then 111 go tell her to let you 
out.” 

“ No, no,” pleaded the girl. “ Grig, 
you’ve got to rescue me some other way. 
This is a secret, a deep, deep secret. No- 
body in the whole world, but you. Grig, 
must know that I was locked in here all 
night. They mustn’t know a thing about 
how I got here — or — or anything! ” 

The secret nature of the enterprise ap- 
pealed to Grig, so the grin faded a little as 
he gave himself up to earnest thought. 

“ If you weren’t a girl ” he began, 

then stopped. 


THE ESCAPE 67 

Being a girl isn’t anything against me,” 
Harmony retorted. 

For an instant, her vision of heroism 
of the night before came again. She had 
wondered then if girls couldn’t do heroic 
things, too. She would show Grig how she 
could do brave deeds, quite as well as any 
boy. He only had to tell her what. 

Being a girl doesn’t make the least bit 
of difference,” she insisted. 

“ But if you were a boy, you could es- 
cape easy,” Grig taunted. 

Tell me how. See if I wouldn’t do it! ” 

Grig enjoyed her spirit. 

‘‘Well — you’d just climb out onto the 
parapet — ^it’s lots more’n a foot wide — and 
then you’d crawl along it until you reached 
my window, and in through that, — and here 
you’d be.” 

Grig paused. “ I could reach you a 
stick, or something, if you are afraid,” he 
suggested wickedly. 


68 


HARMONY WINS 


Harmony put one knee up on the sill. 
As she tipped forward, it seemed as if the 
street below slanted up to meet her. Oh, 
could she ever do it? 

I say, Harmony, you’d better not,” 
cautioned Grig, as he saw this move. 

Who’s afraid? I’m not,” asserted 
Harmony, smiling sidewise at the boy. 
Grig didn’t see the sudden twitch in the 
smiling lips, but he did see Harmony draw 
up the other knee and poise herself in a 
bunch on the sill. 

‘^Harmony, don’t do it!” shouted Grig, 
really frightened now. ‘‘Oh, I’ll take it 
back. Harmony. I never meant ” 

“You keep quiet. Grig!” commanded a 
determined girl’s voice. “ Keep quiet and 
don’t give me any advice. Sit still and 
don’t talk.” 

Grig gasped, but had sense enough to 
obey her orders. 

He saw her turn herself carefully, on 
hands and knees, in his direction, and give 


THE ESCAPE 


69 


her short skirts a jerk so that they would 
be free and not impede her progress. 

Ready now. I’m coming.” 

Slowly, a few inches at a time, she crawled 
toward Grig. 

The parapet was fifty feet above the 
stone pavement. Harmony could see the 
sunny stretch of street lying so far below. 
Her straight look ahead at her goal faltered 
a little. There was a second of dizzy won- 
der whether she could go on. 

Grig saw her falter, and choked. She 
was not yet within reach. He didn’t take 
a long breath for fear of startling her. 
Suppose she should fall! He would be to 
blame. 

Then he saw her find herself and come 
on once more, steadily, surely. 

The inspired countenance of the young 
hero in the picture had come into Har- 
mony’s mind. It steadied her. She could 
do brave things, too, even if she was only a 
girl. 


70 


HARMONY WINS 


‘‘ My,” thought Grig, “ but she’s plucky ! 
She — why — here she is ! ” 

He grabbed her by both arms, and with a 
mighty jerk, had her over the sill and into 
his room, quite safe. 

They both gurgled with frightened 
laughter, and Grig found himself patting 
her on the back, repqating, ‘‘ Good girl ! 
Couldn’t have done it better if you’d been 
a boy! Couldn’t have done it better my- 
self!” 

It was a foolish and unnecessary esca- 
pade, but successfully accomplished, and 
Grig knew he was the one at fault. He 
was very thankful that it was so quickly and 
safely over. 

Strange to say. Harmony didn’t feel the 
uplifted and prideful state of mind she had 
anticipated. Grig’s praise didn’t sound as 
fine as she had thought it would. She was 
a little bit ashamed. She felt also a little 
bit cross. Somewhere inside of herself, she 
knew that it wouldn’t have mattered so very 


THE ESCAPE 71 

much if Eileen had been let into the secret 
and allowed to unlock the gate. Eileen 
would have saved her, though in a very un- 
romantic way, and would have kept her sec- 
ret faithfully. 

All this flashed through the back of her 
mind while Grig was congratulating her, 
and it gave a rather bitter taste to her tri- 
umph. 

‘‘ You’re a real sport! ” he finished, offer- 
ing her the finest compliment in his power. 

Harmony sniffed in disdain. 

‘‘ Thought I wouldn’t dare to, didn’t 
you? Well, I fooled you.” 

She looked critically around the room. 
Grig’s attic was small and uninteresting. 
After the many exciting experiences of the 
past twenty-four hours. Harmony did not 
feel at all inclined to stay. 

Grig was teasing to hear about her ad- 
ventures. 

“I think you’re horrid!” he concluded, 
when she refused point-blank. “ After my 


72 


HARMONY WINS 


saving you from imprisonment, you won’t 
tell me how you got there, or the secret 
about it.” 

“Huh!” said Harmony, “I saved my- 
self. You didn’t do a thing but tell me 
how. Some time, perhaps, after years and 
years, I can let you know the whole secret. 
I can’t now. Besides, I’m awful hun- 
gry.” 

“Eileen won’t be up yet. I’ll tell on 
you, if ” 

“Why, Griggetty-Grig! I’m ashamed 
of you! Tell tales on a girl?^* 

Grig lowered his flag. 

“ No, sure. Of course, I wouldn’t. 
You know that. But if you’re not the 
meanest thing ” 

Harmony escaped down the staircase. 

Eileen was up. She was tired, for she’d 
been out late the night before, and she asked 
no questions when Harmony appeared. 

Harmony ate a big breakfast in complete 
silence. 


THE ESCAPE 73 

Grig, left alone, his curiosity unappeased, 
felt very much put out. 

He climbed up into his window again and 
looked back over the path the girl had taken 
to his room that morning. Now that Har- 
mony had conquered it, the perils did not 
seem to him so great. 

“ Never you mind. Miss Harmony Hale,’’ 
he communed bitterly, “ I’ll find out your 
old secret yet. Some day I’ll climb over 
into your attic, and then I’ll see what it is 
you’re so mysterious about.” 

With this. Grig’s feelings seemed re- 
lieved. The wide grin that had brought 
him his name settled back upon his features. 

‘‘You’d better look out for me!” he 
chuckled. “I’U play Old Sleuth!” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE NEW LODGEB 

ELL,” said Eileen crossly, one 
V V day in September, as Har- 
mony came in from school, 
“ your mean old grandfather has gone and 
done it, just as he said he would.” 

Harmony looked her sympathy. Grand- 
father was always doing things that irritated 
Eileen. It was a wonder that the girl 
stayed. She sometimes wondered, herself, 
for her ‘‘ steady company,” a good-looking, 
hard-working mechanic, was very urgent 
about their starting a little home of their 
own together. 

But every time Eileen was about to say 
“ yes ” to him, a little girl-face with gray 
eyes would wistfully appear to her mental 


THE NEW LODGER 


75 


vision, and she’d answer, ‘‘ Aw, I can’t 
leave her yet, Larry. Poor little kid, she 
ain’t got nobody but me.” And because 
there was a good big heart in Larry, to 
match Eileen’s, he’d wait another month 
before he asked her again. 

Harmony said simply, ‘‘ What’s the mat- 
ter, now, you dear, cross old bear, you?” 

And Eileen growled. “ Lodger. Front 
room on your floor.” 

‘‘ Oh ! ” exclaimed the little girl, inter- 
ested in spite of Eileen’s indignation. 
"‘What is he like?” 

“ ’Tain’t a he. It’s a she — a little, half- 
old lady. That is, she’s small, and just as 
spry as you or me, only her hair’s gray and 
she has twinkly wrinkles around her eyes 
and mouth.” 

Harmony seated herself at the table. 

“ I think that sounds quite nice. Did she 
come to see you? ” 

“No, I was upstairs, taking away Dear- 
Me’s breakfast things, and as I passed your 


76 HARMONY WINS 

grandfather’s office, she came out, nodding 
and smiling. Why, even the sour old miser 
had a kink in one corner of his mouth, al- 
most like a smile.” 

Eileen, recovering from her wrath, was 
heaping up Harmony’s plate with mashed 
potato and creamed codfish. 

Then after she was gone, your grand- 
father hollered down the stairs that she was 
the new lodger, that she was taking the sec- 
ond floor front room, and that she would 
move in Monday.” 

The prospect of the new lodger provided 
Harmony and Eileen with material for con- 
siderable speculation for the rest of the 
week. Her coming was an event. The 
preliminaries to her arrival were exciting. 

One day she made a little call on Eileen, 
who apparently proved an unwilling host- 
ess. She told her how she was sending a 
cleaning woman and paper-hangers to make 
the room look neat and cosy before her fur- 
niture and trunks should arrive. 


THE NEW LODGER 


77 


“ But I don’t want to be any extra 
trouble to you,” she said, and the twinkly 
wrinkles around her eyes and mouth at last 
found their answer in Eileen’s sullen blue 
eyes. ‘‘ I will take care of my room my- 
self, and once a week I shall have a clean- 
ing woman in,” she assured the girl. 

“ I shall get my coffee and egg for break- 
fast, go out for dinner, and have a little 
tea and toast in my room for supper. That 
will be a very comfy way to do, will it not, 
Eileen?” 

Eileen was smiling most hospitably when 
the little half-old lady tripped up the area 
steps, nodding back over her shoulder to the 
girl watching her from the doorway. 

So the days sped on. It must not be sup- 
posed for an instant that Harmony had for- 
gotten the treasure chamber, in all the 
hours since she first discovered it. No, in- 
deed. But it was marvelous how things 
combined to keep her away from it. The 
day after her imprisonment, she returned to 


78 


HARMONY WINS 


the attic stairway for the key, but Grig was 
so persistently on her trail that she dared 
not stay long. 

Time after time, when she thought she 
should have several undisturbed hours in 
the wonderful room, either Dear-Me would 
send her on errands, or ’Seppy would ap- 
pear with his enticing piano, or Grig would 
plan a long and elaborate game, or she 
feared Grandfather would suddenly walk 
into the place and find her at play there. 
So her visits were short and far between un- 
til school began, early in September. 

If chances to visit the attic room were 
few during the vacation, they were still 
scarcer after school began, and when the 
new lodger’s coming was announced, a real 
interest sprang up, which for a short time 
was stronger than that of the treasure cham- 
ber. Harmony spent every odd moment 
while the paper-hanger was present, watch- 
ing his deftness with the long strips of 
paper, scissors, and paste. 


THE NEW LODGER 


79 


Saturday night, when Harmony peeped 
into the transformed place, she could 
scarcely believe that the beautiful room ac- 
tually existed in the shabby old house. It 
was all blue and white. The mantel-piece 
of shining white marble, well scoured, stood 
out in bold contrast against the blue walls 
and dark blue carpet. There were white 
net curtains at the windows, with long in- 
ner ones of dark blue. The furniture had 
only just been moved in, but its dark cherry 
surfaces were beautifully polished and 
showed every finger mark. 

Harmony had never been in such an at- 
tractive room before in her life. It stirred 
something in her heart. She gloated over 
it. She wanted something like it. 

She went back to her own little bedcham- 
ber at the end of the hall and stared at it 
with wondering eyes. It was dirty. It 
was untidy There wasn’t a pretty thing in 
it. 

Downstairs she went, and raided Eileen’s 


80 


HARMONY WINS 


domain. Upstairs she came, laden with 
brooms, cloths, soap and bucket. 

It was almost six o’clock, but Harmony 
courageously began her task. It was real 
work, too, and she swept her little nine by 
eleven bedroom so hard that a blister ap- 
peared in the palm of one dirty little hand. 

Harmony persevered till it was dark. 
She washed the window. She washed the 
wood work. She washed the looking-glass. 
She hunted up some clean sheets and a pil- 
low-case and dressed up her bed in a fashion 
it had not known for many months. She 
put away all the things that were lying care- 
lessly where she had dropped them. When 
she finally lighted the gas, a very clean room 
was being grudgingly admired by a very 
tired and dirty little girl. 

“ Oh, you aren’t one bit pretty, little 
room. You need a curtain, and a bureau- 
spread, and a rocking-chair, and — and — 
lots of things. But you’re clean.” 

She carted the broom and dustpan, and 


THE NEW LODGER 


81 


pail, and soap, and cloths down to the base- 
ment once more. 

‘‘Been hunting for more treasure?” 
asked Eileen when Harmony presented her- 
self for a belated supper. 

“ Nope. House cleaning,” said Har- 
mony briefly, as she proceeded to absorb 
bread and milk without further explana- 
tion. 

“ Eileen,” said she at length, moving back 
from the table, “ Eileen, have I got a clean 
dress with all the buttons on it?” 

“ Sure. YeVe got three clean dresses, 
but as for buttons, seems to me it’s time 
ye learned to sew ’em on fer yerself.” 

Her eyes twinkled, as she made this sug- 
gestion, but Harmony was busy with her 
own ideas and did not notice. 

“ You see, Eileen,” she continued, as if 
pronouncing the result of considerable seri- 
ous thought, “ when I’m a big girl, I’ve de- 
cided to be a great favorite. Everybody 
is going to love me. It’s — it’s like a room. 


82 


HARMONY WINS 


you see. When it’s clean and heat and 
pretty, folks love it better.” 

She intently regarded the blister in the 
palm of her hand. “ So I guess it’s time to 
begin. If you’ll show me how, I’ll sew on 
the buttons.” 

She sighed a little and looked question- 
ingly at Eileen. 

“ Sure, ye’re right, darlin’, and I kin per- 
vide ye with a plenty of buttons and needles 
and thread. Did ye mean ye’d like to be- 
gin right now? ” 

Harmony nodded. 

So Eileen brought an armful of shabby 
gingham frocks from the rack of freshly 
ironed clothes in the kitchen, and out of a 
basket of sewing materials, all higglety- 
pigglety, selected a large brass thimble, an 
assortment of crockery and pearl buttons, 
and a bulky needle which she deftly threaded 
with coarse white cotton. 

The tedious process was auspiciously be- 
gun, and continued for a long, long time. 


THE NEW LODGER 


83 


Harmony patiently stabbed for elusive holes 
in the buttons, and Eileen patiently un- 
tangled the knots in the double thread. 

But Harmony felt proud when, the last 
button securely in place, Eileen folded the 
three little frocks and gave them into her 
arms. 

“Only, next time, Eileen, it would be 
prettier if the buttons all matched, wouldn’t 
it?” Harmony suggested. 

“ Fancy noticin’ that, now,” exclaimed 
Eileen admiringly, gazing at the small girl 
across the pile of gingham. “ Sure, I’ll see 
to it meself, next time, that the buttons are 
all of one family,” and she laughed at Har- 
mony’s pleased smile. 

“ You’re a dear! ” cooed Harmony press- 
ing a flushed cheek against Eileen’s ruddy 
one, “ and I love you. Good night.” 

Eileen watched her as she left the room, 
a wistful light in her kind eyes. 

“ She says, when she’s a big girl every- 
body is going to love her,” she mused as she 


84 


HARMONY WINS 


bundled the sewing things back into the 
basket. “ Seems to me it’s a pretty hard 
heart that wouldn’t love the little thing 
now.” 

Mrs. Goodwin moved in Monday, while 
Harmony was at school. 

For several days the little girl saw noth- 
ing of the new lodger. The latter seemed 
determined to prove that she would make 
no trouble for anybody. 

Dear-Me was sure she’d be very disagree- 
able, — drop her shoes on the floor and walk 
about in the middle of the night, or leave 
her blinds open to bang if a wind came up. 
The week of the cleaning woman and the 
paper-hanger had been a great trial to 
Dear-Me, and her lamentations over her 
sufferings had irritated Eileen and worried 
Harmony not a little. 

But after the bright little half-old lady 
really moved in, for days one would hardly 
have known she was there. 

Harmony was overcome with a form of 








Harmony patiently stabbed for the elusive holes in the 

BUTTONS. — Page 83. 








THE NEW LODGER 85 

bashfulness, and avoided meeting her in the 
halls. 

Nevertheless, she and Grig had great 
sport guessing what was in the trunk, the 
two packing boxes, and the barrel, that had 
been carried in with the furniture. 

One day when Harmony came home from 
school, Eileen told a very circumstantial 
tale of how a piano had been moved into the 
house and up the stairs to the second floor 
front. 

“ My, but Dear-Me nearly threw a fit,” 
*aughed Eileen gleefully. ‘‘ She came to 
her door and ordered the men out of the 
house, piano and all, while the little lodger- 
lady stood at the stair head and smiled and 
tapped the toe of her shoe against the ban- 
isters. And Anally I had to sneak around 
the house to the side entrance and call your 
grandfather out of the office. ‘ What’s the 
matter? ’ he growled, ‘ sounds like a lunatic 
asylum ! ’, and I said it did resemble one. 
And he told me to stop talkin’ unless I 


86 


HARMONY WINS 


could tell him what all these goin’s-on were 
about. Then he just stalked into the front 
hall, and frowned at your ma hard, and 
told the movers to go ahead about their busi- 
ness. The piano went up. Dear-Me re- 
turned to her room and had hysterics, and 
I don’t think you’d better go near her again 
to-day. I’ve got her quieted down, now, 
and have put her to bed.” 

‘‘ I’m sorry about Dear-Me,” said Har- 
mony, but she couldn’t help thinking she 
was glad the piano was allowed to come 
in. 

‘‘Don’t worry about Dear-Me, darlin’,” 
comforted Eileen. 

“ A real piano in the house! ” Harmony 
murmured. “ I’ve never touched a real 
piano, Eileen. Isn’t it wonderful? Do you 
s’pose she’d play for us? ” 

Eileen shook her head. If Mrs. Goodwin 
did play, and Dear-Me “ took-on ” as she 
had this afternoon, the house wouldn’t be 
livable for any one. She was a little 


THE NEW LODGER 87 

troubled, although she had told the story 
with considerable spirit. 

Mrs. Goodwin did not play for some time. 

Meanwhile, grief and deprivation over- 
took the little girl, who had so few joys and 
made such happy use of those few. Har- 
mony fell into deep disgrace. 

It was a cool September evening, and 
dusk was coming on, when ’Seppy and his 
street piano stopped a few doors from the 
Hale’s house. 

People with shawls and jackets huddled 
around their shoulders were sitting out up- 
on the steps, only too ready for a free spec- 
tacle. 

Harmony and Grig had been having a 
comfortable spat about the relative merits 
of being a lodger in a house (as Grig was, 
next door), or keeping lodgers in the house 
(as Grandfather Hale was doing.) 

The disagreement had reached a high- 
voiced stage, when tum-te — te — turn — 
turn ” went ’Seppy’s piano. Neither waited 


88 


HARMONY WINS 


for the quarrel’s conclusion, but sped down 
the street to meet the Italian and his little 
audience. 

“ One, two, three, one, two, three,” into 
the music whirled the slender figure of the 
girl, and she danced like an elf in the half 
light. Her curls bobbed, her eyes sparkled, 
she flung out her hands in exquisite curves. 
She was enchanting. 

Grig beat a soft accompaniment with his 
palms and attuned a flute-like whistle to the 
timpan-timpan of the organ. 

Suddenly the admiring circle was parted 
by two strong hands, a gray haired man 
strode within and clutched the little dancer 
by the shoulder. 

Harmony spun ’round face to face with 
her grandfather; not Grandfather in his 
ordinary surly mood, but Grandfather 
in a rage. 

“ What does this mean? ” he shouted, his 
rough voice rasping into the merry strain of 
the piano. 


THE NEW LODGER 


89 


’Seppy held the crank still, and the music 
ceased abruptly. Grig gave a last pat of 
his hands and looked sharp. 

‘‘ What do you mean, you little minx, 
dancing, dancing in the public street? ” 

He jerked the child by the shoulder, out 
of the melting circle, towards home. 

“ Go home and go to bed, this instant ! ” 
he thundered. “I’ll teach you! Dancing 

in the street like — like ” he swallowed 

down whatever epithet he had intended to 
call her. “ Don’t you ever let me catch you 
dancing again! Hear me? I’ll — I’ll — I 
won’t be answerable for what I’ll do to you, 
if you disobey.” 

He sped her on her way with a violent 
push, but Grig caught her arm and hurried 
along with her. 

“Don’t you care, Harmony, He’s a 
brute, everybody knows. Don’t you care,” 
he consoled her. 

Harmony ran on. She held her breath. 
She was thoroughly frightened. She was 


90 harmony wins 

angry. She was heart-broken. She longed 
for the solitary little bedchamber and the 
pillow with the still fresh pillow-case. She 
would let go then and cry 

Harmony’s tears were not frequent, but 
her heart was breaking. She ran into the 
house. Grig stood irresolutely on the porch 
steps, abandoned. Grandfather stamped 
around through the side door, to his office. 

Onto her bed dived the little girl, and let 
the tears flood. She stuffed the pillow 
corner into her mouth. It wouldn’t do to 
have the new lodger hear her cry like that! 
But the sobs were those of a bereaved 
soul. 

Finally her hand pushed under the pil- 
low. Something touched her Angers — the 
picture of the lovely lady. A little comfort 
from that contact helped the big sobs to 
soften, but the tears kept on. 

And then there was a tap on the door. 
Somebody came in. Somebody lifted the 
heart-broken child into motherly arms. 


THE NEW LODGER 


91 


Somebody mopped the muddy tears away 
and kissed the forlorn little face. 

Harmony caught her breath, and opened 
her swollen lids. 

She looked up into gray eyes not unlike 
her own, the gray eyes, very tender and 
sweet, of the new lodger. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 

H armony was too astonished to 
understand what had happened to 
her, except that the motherly em- 
brace in which she lay was so novel and com- 
forting that she had no desire to break the 
spell. 

Mrs. Goodwin did not speak at first. She 
let Harmony rest softly until the storm of 
tears was spent. 

“ Dear-heart,” she laughed cheerily, ‘‘ but 
wasn’t that a terrible thunderstorm ! ” 
Harmony stirred. “ Where? ” she asked, 
looking towards the window, where the blue 
night-sky shone serenely. 

The little lady laughed again. “ Here, 
right here in my arms.” 

Harmony was interested. “It was terri- 
ble,” she agreed, sniffing valiantly against 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 93 


the last few tears, but — but it’s all over 
now.” 

“ Then, suppose we go into my room and 
have a little visit. You and I haven’t be- 
come acquainted yet.” 

Harmony tucked the lovely lady’s pic- 
ture under her pillow and started up. 

‘‘ Oh, how nice ! ” she exclaimed, her gray 
eyes shining even through the puffed lids. 
“ I think you must be a regular fairy god- 
mother — are you? ” 

Perhaps. I’ll try hard to be, if you will 
let me,” assented the new lodger, as she and 
the little girl walked up the hall, hand in 
hand. 

“ I never had a fairy godmother, I’m 
afraid,” said Harmony, carrying on the 
fancy. It was a pretty new game, and she 
was enjoying it. I think you came to me 
just in time. I was very sad.” 

Mrs. Goodwin could not help smiling in 
the dim light of the hall. The child’s words 
were quaint. 


94 


HARMONY WINS 


^‘Yes, you seemed to be,” she agreed. 

If you like, we’ll talk things over to- 
gether, and perhaps we can see sunshine be- 
hind the clouds.” 

Harmony continued to feel astonished. 
Had she made a friend, a real friend at last? 
It was a new and exhilerating experience. 
She felt a laugh bubbling up out of her ex- 
citement. Harmony wasn’t much given to 
laughter, and the sensation was a new and 
pleasant one. 

They entered the big blue-and-white 
room together, and Mrs. Goodwin made a 
light in the shaded lamp that stood on a 
table in the center. Then she gently pushed 
the child into the cushioned depths of an 
easy chair. 

She took her own seat opposite in a 
rocker, and, picking up some pretty white 
muslin thing, began to sew. 

Harmony watched her quietly for a few 
minutes. Then she said, “I’ve learned to 
sew the buttons on my own dresses.” She 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 95 


wanted this good lady to know that she 
could do something. 

It’s well to be able to keep oneself neat 
and tidy,” responded Mrs. Goodwin. “A 
woman must always he that. It’s an im- 
portant part of her charm for others. No 
woman can be really pretty unless she is 
perfectly neat.” 

Harmony listened to this as to an oracle. 
No one had ever talked to her in this way 
before. Something of the kind she had 
thought out for herself some days ago. She 
was right, it seemed, and she felt a glow 
of pride at having thought it first. She said 
nothing, however, for the bliss of her pres- 
ent position was so great that she did not 
care to interfere with it. 

Mrs. Goodwin sewed and rocked for sev- 
eral minutes before she spoke again. 

“ Do you want to tell me what caused the 
thunderstorm?” she asked at length. 

Harmony roused herself sharply. 

Grandfather,” she answered quickly. 


96 


HARMONY WINS 


and the gleam in her eyes was not sunshine, 
but lightning. “ He found me dancing in 
the street, to ’Seppy’s piano, and he shouted 
at me, and dragged me away by the arm, 
and told me never, never to let him catch 
me dancing again.” Harmony’s mouth and 
eyes took on a look of mutiny that did not 
argue well for obedience. 

Mrs. Goodwin dropped her work and 
leaned forward, staring at the angry child. 

‘‘ Dancing? ” she said. 

“ Oh, yes, I love it,” exclaimed Harmony, 
jumping to her feet. “ I could dance for- 
ever, like this,” and she made a few swift 
steps and swept a curtsy to the lady in the 
rocking-chair. 

Mrs. Goodwin was silent. She picked up 
her work again and sewed with quick 
stitches. 

Harmony waited a moment, watching the 
flashing needle, then catching sight of her- 
self in a long mirror between the front win- 
dows, fell to bowing and pirouetting before 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 97 

it with the abandonment of a child of three. 

‘‘ Who taught you to dance? ” asked Mrs. 
Goodwin at length. 

Harmony turned. 

‘‘ Who taught you to dance? ” Mrs. Good- 
repeated. “ Your — ^your mother? ” 

“No,” replied Harmony. “Oh, no, not 
mother. She’s always in bed— that is, most 
always. I’ve always danced, I guess. No- 
body ever showed me how. Can’t every- 
body dance? Can’t you dance?” 

Mrs. Goodwin smiled a little, then bent 
her head over her work. “ Some day. Har- 
mony, if you and I remain good friends, I 
will tell you a story about a little girl who 
danced — a true story. No, dear, not every- 
one can dance. Very few, as you do — or as 
she did.” 

Harmony was sure she saw a tear fall 
upon the pretty white muslin. Was her 
dear fairy godmother crying? But why 
should she, when they were talking about 
such a joyous thing as dancing? 


98 


HARMONY WINS 


The child came close, with an awkward 
impulse to caress the delicate old hands of 
the little lodger-lady. 

‘‘ Won’t you tell the story now? ” she 
asked, patting the hand upon which she dis- 
tinctly felt a teardrop. “Aren’t we good 
enough friends, now? ” 

“ Not quite, but we will be soon. Of that 
I’m sure,” said Mrs. Goodwin, looking up 
and smiling serenely again. “ Besides, we 
must consider how we are to deal with 
Grandfather’s command. Let us think a 
bit. He says you must not dance again. I 
believe he meant in the street, and, if that’s 
true, I really think Grandfather was right 
about it.” 

Harmony was perplexed. Here was her 
new friend taking the part of her ancient 
enemy. Was that friendly? 

“Yes, the street is no place for you to 
dance,” continued Mrs. Goodwin. “ A 
little lady never lets herself be conspicuous 
or stared at in the street. She is quiet and 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 99 


gentle and dignified. Nevertheless, danc- 
ing in itself is not wrong. Perhaps, though, 
Grandfather has some reason for not liking 
dancing. That may be so. Many people 
do not approve of it. And because he is 
your grandfather, and much older and 
wiser than you are, little girl, we must re- 
spect his wishes. So, no more dancing in 
the street, not alone because Grandfather 
forbids, but because you wish to please him, 
and because now you know he is right.” 

Harmony scuffled one of her feet on the 
floor and held her head down. She only 
half agreed with Mrs. Goodwin, because she 
was still a little bit angry. 

“ Some day you may know just why 
Grandfather wishes you not to dance. 
Won’t you be a good girl and forget that 
you were angry at him? ” Mrs. Goodwin 
peered up into the frowning face so sweetly 
that Harmony yielded on the spot and came 
down on her knees before her, planting her 
arms right in among the white muslin folds. 


100 


HARMONY WINS 


‘"Yes, yes, I’ll try,” she said, “ and if I’m 
good about Grandfather, don’t you think 
perhaps, some time, he will love me a little? ” 

The wistful face at her knee was very 
touching, and Mrs. Goodwin cuddled it be- 
tween her hands and kissed it. Was it not 
worth while to befriend a little heart-hungry 
child like this? 

“ Surely, dear,” said the good lady, 
promising boldly for the cross-grained old 
man, “ surely, he will some day. Mean- 
time we will make it a study how to please 
him. Shall we? A great game that will be, 
to see how many joints he has in his armor 
of crustiness. The fairy sword of loving 
kindness will pierce it at a thousand points.” 

Harmony smiled. This was talk she 
could understand. 

“But I’m ’fraid my feet will dance in 
spite of me,” gurgled Harmony, after they 
had pictured Grandfather in rusty old 
armor, with a linked mail shirt ready to 
drop in pieces before the valiant sword of a 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 101 


little Knightess, ‘‘what ever shall I do?” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Goodwin, drawing out 
the word into many syllables, “we’ll just 
have to train those feet. Suppose we ask 
Grandfather some day, when you’ve pierced 
him just above the heart, if he will let his 
little girl go to a real dancing school.” 

“ O-o-o,” breathed the child. 

“ But mind you, it won’t be right away, 
because it may take you a long time to 
pierce him in just the right spot.” 

“Well,” assented Harmony. “I can 
only try the harder,” which was very old- 
fashioned philosophy for a very young girl. 

“Meantime, perhaps we can find some- 
thing for your hands to do that will keep 
the feet quiet for a little while,” suggested 
Mrs. Goodwin. She bundled the armful of 
muslin onto the table and rose. When she 
went across to the piano and opened it. 
Harmony felt that heaven was near. 

“Are you going to play for me?” she 
whispered. 


102 


HARMONY WINS. 


“ Listen/’ said the fairy godmother, and 
she seated herself at the piano and trailed 
her delicate fingers over the keys. “ If you 
like music well enough to practise hard on 
the simplest exercises for the sake of some 
day making music like this,” her voice took 
on the measure and cadence of the thing 
she was playing, “ I will teach you, and you 
shall have harmony in your hands as well as 
in your feet and in your heart and in your 
name.” 

“ Oh,” gasped Harmony. Me? Do you 
mean me. Fairy Godmother? ” 

‘‘ I certainly do,” responded the little 
half-old lady, accepting in the best spirit 
the ecstatic hug which Harmony gave her. 
She put an arm around the child and drew 
her to her side, kissing the soft smooth cheek 
that pressed against hers. “ I certainly do. 
Harmony, and no time is better than this 
to begin. What do you say to having your 
first lesson now? ” 

Harmony was in a tremble of eagerness. 
Yet she felt a sudden shyness and helpless- 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 103 


ness come over her when she was actually 
seated on the piano stool with her fingers on 
the cool white keys. 

Mrs. Goodwin drew up a chair beside her 
and began to explain the mysteries of the 
keyboard, striking clear, sweet notes from 
time to time. 

The lesson was short, for it was the hour 
that little girls should be abed. Besides, 
Harmony had been greatly excited and ex- 
hausted by her crying spell. 

You are to come to me every day,” ad- 
monished the fairy godmother with mock 
severity, “ and you shall practice under my 
very nose. I shall rap your knuckles with 
my pencil when you hold your hands badly, 
and I shall turn the clock’s face away from 
you so that you can’t stop until I say, 
‘ Time’s up for to-day.’ Oh, I shall be a 
very ogreish person indeed.” 

Harmony laughed happily. You can’t 
frighten me. Fairy Godmother. I shall just 
love to practice.” 

This was promising a great deal, as Mrs. 


104 


HARMONY WINS 


Goodwin well knew, for she had given 
lessons to many other little girls and 
boys. 

After the lesson, the aspiring musician 
was treated to cake, a most delicious kind 
made in three layers with chocolate between 
and spread thickly on the top. Harmony 
was not accustomed to such articles of diet. 
She had seen such cakes in bakery windows, 
but never had she set tooth in one, and Mrs. 
Goodwin smiled as she watched her little 
guest dispose of it. 

Harmony’s gray eyes were wide open 
with the wonders of the evening. She was 
even serious over the eating of the cake. So 
much unusual had happened to her that 
night! The fairy godmother had set ajar 
for her the door of the future. She could 
catch fleeting glimpses of wonderful things 
within. Her heart, her mind, her soul, even 
her body, had been hungry and unsatisfled 
until the fairy godmother came. And the 
great wonder of it all was that the fairy 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 105 


godmother seemed to know what she needed 
and had given it to her. 

She sat looking dreamily at nothing and 
marveling for many seconds after the last 
cake crumb had disappeared. Then Mrs. 
Goodwin spoke. 

“ Come, dear, it’s late. You must go to 
bed now. We’ll have other nice times to- 
gether, you and I. This is only the first.” 

The first,” sighed the happy child, 
wakening from her vision. Only the first ! 
I do love you so,” and she raised her soft, 
smiling mouth to the little half -old lady. 
For the first time that she could remember. 
Harmony was going to bed with a loving 
good night kiss upon her lips. 

When she finally ran down the hall to her 
own room, a bar of light from Mrs. Good- 
win’s open door made for her a golden path- 
way. 


CHAPTER VIII 


HERO-O’-MINE 

4 X THAT are you going to do to- 
Y y day?” called Grig, one Satur- 
day morning. 

It was glorious Indian summer, the sun 
shining through a beautiful grayish haze. 

Grig was leaping back and forth over the 
water hydrant, in exuberance of spirits, 
while he questioned his little friend and 
neighbor. Harmony Hale. 

Harmony had just returned from the 
store, her arms burdened with Eileen’s Sat- 
urday shopping. 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t know ’specially,” she re- 
plied, pausing at the top of the steps of the 
area-way. “ Only, of course, I must prac- 
tise, and clean my room, and sew on but- 
tons, and study my lessons, and ” 

106 


HERO-O^-MINE 107 

Aw, fudge, what you givin’ us? Come 
on out and play,” commanded Grig. 

Harmony, however, had her time all 
planned, although she didn’t mean Grig to 
know it. She was going to spend the whole 
delightful day in the treasure chamber, just 
coming out of it long enough for luncheon 
and her music lesson, so as not to arouse 
anybody’s suspicions. 

“ Oh, I’ve got too much to do. Grig. I 
can’t possibly play to-day,” Harmony in- 
sisted firmly, and went down the steps. 

Grig came to the area and shouted after 
her indignantly, “ All right for you, Har- 
mony Hale. You’re getting to be a reg’lar 
sissy since that lodger came to your house. 
You used to be some fun, but now ” 

His scorn was wasted. Harmony had 
closed the door between them. 

It was a week or more since Harmony 
had even peeped into the attic room. Days 
were so very busy now, and life had de- 
veloped so many pleasant duties. 


108 


HARMONY WINS 


To-day, however, the fascination of the 
treasure chamber drew Harmony again 
with compelling force, and, as she climbed 
the last flight of stairs to it, her heart beat 
in anticipation. 

As she opened the door. Harmony saw 
the room flooded with the autumn sunshine, 
just a little hazy. She drew a long breath 
of delight. 

At first she walked about on tip-toe, so 
as not to break the charm of the perfect still- 
ness. She pushed up the window, where the 
chair still stood, and stopped a moment to 
look down into the street far below. 

Grig was sitting on the steps next door, 
doing nothing. This was a bad sign. Grig 
was never really doing nothing. When 
quiet, plans were hatching under his thick 
black hair. Harmony couldn’t help wonder- 
ing what he’d do. 

Suddenly he lifted his head and looked up 
directly towards her, as though her eyes 
had attracted him. She dodged back, 


HERO‘0^-MINE 


109 


laughing, not daring to peek again, and 
turned away from the window and all 
thought of Grig. 

Then she held a long conversation with 
hero-o’-mine, and dusted him off until she 
sneezed. 

‘‘ I wish I had some paint with me,” she 
said. “ I’d paint you up good again.” 
Hero-o’ mine stared glassily over her head. 
Perhaps his feelings were hurt at her 
familiarity. 

At length she approached the chest which 
was at the far end of the long room and al- 
most concealed by the spinet, the spinning- 
wheel, and one of the table cases. Dust lay 
thick in the deep crevices of the carvings, 
and the lid looked heavy and defiant. 

To-day, however. Harmony was not to be 
balked by any circumstances. If the chest 
was not locked, the lid must come open. 
That was all. So, like the wolf in the little- 
pig fairy tale, she “ huffed and she puffed ” 
until she managed to lift the lid. A jammed 


110 


HARMONY WINS 


finger, which had been caught in the crack 
when the lid fell back once, was the only 
casualty, and Harmony hung over the edge, 
short-breathed but triumphant. 

The treasure trove was at first glance dis- 
heartening, for the chest was large and long 
and very sparsely packed. On top lay a 
shallow pasteboard box, tied with heavy 
twine. Under it was a pile of clothing, and 
in one corner several bundles of letters, yel- 
low and time-worn. 

The box was marked in her grandfather’s 
large, irregular hand- writing, “Data Con- 
cerning Nathan Hale.” 

She placed it on the top of the spinet, for 
future consideration, and explored further. 

She lifted out the first garment. It was 
a silk gown, so old that the color had almost 
vanished, leaving it a dull yellow like a 
faded rose petal, and the cut of it was so 
strange that Harmony stared at it, shook 
out its rustling folds and stared at it 
again. 


HERO-O^-MINE 


111 


Hit length, girl-like, she decided to try it 
bn. First she slipped off her own frock and 
tied up all her loose curls with the hair rib- 
bon on top of her head. Then she put on 
the silken gown. It whispered softly of the 
long ago, as she raised it above her head 
and let the circular folds of silk settle softly 
down around her, until they lay in rings up- 
on the floor at her feet. She pushed her 
slender arms through the oddly located arm- 
holes, and managed, by much twisting, to 
fasten the waist at the back. 

While she was getting into the dress, it 
seemed as though the unseen presence she 
had felt the flrst night had come once more 
into the room. She heard little creakings 
and shufflings, faint and far away, by the 
window, and again near the old mahogany 
sofa. 

Once, one of the sounds was so distinct 
that she stopped and listened sharply’ and 
even stepped out of her barricade of furni- 
ture to glance down the room. The dust 


112 HARMONY WINS 

motes danced in the sunshine’ and the bead- 
black eyes of a tiny mouse audaciously re- 
turned her glance from behind the stack of 
bayonets. 

‘‘ Between Mr. Mouse and the ‘ Spirit of 
Seventy-Six she laughed, “ I’m almost 
getting scared.” 

But immediately her thoughts returned to 
the gown that curled softly around her feet. 
She put her hand to the breast of it. 
‘‘ Some one once wore you, whose heart beat 
just like mine,” she murmured, feeling the 
soft pit-pat against the old, yellow silk. “ I 
wonder if she was the mother, or the sister, 
or the wife, or the sweetheart of the hero. 
I wonder if she felt proud and high when 
he went away to fight for his country.” 

She began further excavations into the 
depths of the chest. 

“ Here’s a bonnet,” she exulted, drawing 
forth a prim little affair with strings, no- 
color like the dress. She promptly put it 
on tying it over her ears. The odd soft 


HERO-O’-MINE 113 

noises in the room sounded more mysterious 
than ever. 

She curtsied and minced across the floor 
in great glee, bowing in an exaggerated 
fashion to hero-o’-mine, who couldn’t appre- 
ciate how quaint the child appeared with her 
fresh girl face and tendrils of curls peeping 
forth from the ancient bonnet. 

Then Harmony sat down upon the hair- 
cloth sofa, spread her skirts, straightened 
her back and, pretending she was the original 
wearer of the old dress, made prim conver- 
sation with hero-o’-mine. 

‘‘ Yes, thank you, my health is excellent,” 
she said formally. 

Something followed unheard from the 
soldier. 

You see,” she continued, “ I’ve had such 
a long rest — I’ve been asleep like the Sleep- 
ing Beauty, many and many a year. Don’t 
you get tired of always standing?” 

She paused, while the gentleman was sup- 
posed to answer. 


114 HARMONY WINS 

Then she nodded her head sympatheti- 
cally. 

‘‘Just as I thought. You poor thing! 
And the moths! Aren’t they troublesome? 
Do they disturb you much? They don’t like 
silk you know, so my dress was safe. It’s 
terribly faded though. I think it used to be 
pink, if I remember correctly. Do you re- 
member?” And she cocked her head co- 
quettishly and gave the mute figure a mis- 
chievous glance, while she awaited his im- 
aginary reply. 

But in the short silence that followed, 
there came a queer sound from directly un- 
der the sofa, that caused the little colonial 
dame to jump. 

“Mercy me!” she exclaimed, “that 
naughty mouse ! ” and she scuffled her feet 
noisily to scare him back to his hole. In 
that instant, the lady of the eighteenth cen- 
tury had vanished and a little girl of the 
twentieth was sitting in her place on the 


HERO-O^-MINE 


115 


hair-cloth sofa. The pretty game had been 
spoiled by a mouse! 

Harmony returned to the region of the 
chest. Here the spinet attracted her atten- 
tion, and she sat down and began to play. 

Several weeks of music lessons had taught 
her a few scales and simple exercises, and 
these easy things were just suited to the 
little piano. Harmony tried them, and 
they sounded so well that she jumbled them 
together into what seemed to her a noble 
improvisation. To this accompaniment she 
chanted : 

“ Hero-o’-mine, I love you. I love you 
for all your noble deeds. I love you for 
your brave heart. I love you because you 
saved my country for me.” 

And loving him so much, her song natur- 
ally went on to include other things that she 
loved. 

“ I love this treasure chamber of Grand- 
father’s. I love everything in it. I love 


116 


HARMONY WINS 


my fairy godmother. I love my music les- 
sons. I love dear old Eileen, and I love 
’Seppy’s street piano. Only I can’t dance 
to it any more. I love the picture of the 
beautiful lady. I love — I love Grig ” 

There was another soft noise in the room. 
Harmony stopped, her attention diverted 
for a moment. Then she finished in her nat- 
ural voice. ‘‘ Sometimes,” she said, and 
rose from the spinet. 

dear, I wish I could have Grig up 
here,” she mourned, “it would be such fun. 
Oh, well Let’s see, what’s in this.” 

She picked up the box she had found in 
the top of the chest and carried it over to the 
sofa. 

Carefully arranging her gown and unty- 
ing her bonnet strings. Harmony prepared 
herself for a long, quiet hour. 

She slipped the string off the box marked 
by her grandfather, 

“Data Concerning Nathan Hale,” 
and lifted the cover. There, on a pile of 


HEROO^-MINE 117 

papers and printed pages, lay a large mod- 
ern photograph of a statue. 

Underneath it were the words : 

‘‘ NATHAN HALE 
The Ideal Patriot.” 

The photograph of the figure on the ped- 
estal had the effect of a picture from life. 
Harmony studied it with rapture. The sec- 
ret of the chest lay revealed — the name, the 
face, the story of her hero, Harmony had 
found him, tangibly, at last. 

The wooden figure had only the soldier’s 
clothing, the young man in the engraving 
had his spirit. Here were combined all 
parts, made one. Here he was embodied 
and named. Here was Nathan Hale, the 
ideal patriot. 

All the passion of hero-worship possessed 
by little visionaries and dreamers, like Har- 
mony, rose in a tide. Her face flushed, but 
she could do nothing but gaze at the young 
hero’s exalted countenance and whisper his 
name to herself. 


118 


HARMONY WINS 


“Hale,” she said at length, “my name! 
Grandfather’s name! Grandfather will tell 
me all about him. He was a real, real man.” 

The child was satisfied. The treasure 
chamber had at last shown to her its heart. 

The papers and manuscripts contained in 
the box all had to deal with Nathan Hale. 
She saw the name repeated in them again 
and again, but compared with the picture 
they lacked interest. She preferred her 
own imaginings. Moreover, she was deter- 
mined to “ hold up ” Grandfather for the 
true story. 

Absorbed in her thoughts. Harmony was 
very quiet, the room still. 

Suddenly somebody sneezed. 

“ Kerchew! ” 

There was no doubt about its being a 
hearty, human sneeze. 

“ Kerchew! ” 

Harmony screamed, dropped the photo- 
graph and jumped to her feet. Surely 
there was no one in the room! She looked 


HERO-O^-MINE 


119 


suspiciously at the wooden soldier. He was 
stiffly saluting her as he had been for an hour 
past. 

The ensuing silence was terrifying. Har- 
mony held her breath. Then the sneezer 
sniffed. Harmony, trembling, had been 
standing rooted to the spot directly in front 
of the sofa. 

At the sound of the sniff, a little smile 
crept into her face. Without moving, she 
looked sharply at the floor beneath the 
couch. There, just discernible in the 
shadow, she saw the tips of two grimy fin- 
gers. 

Quick as a flash she planted her foot 
heavily upon these intruders. 

The sneezer was trapped. 


CHAPTER IX 


An unexpected attack 

Aw, let up, Harmony,” 
V.^ begged a voice from under the 
sofa. 

Harmony set her teeth and stepped 
harder. 

Oh, I say, perhaps you think you’re a 
lightweight,” pleaded the voice. 

Suddenly a second hand shot out from be- 
neath the sofa, caught Harmony’s left 
ankle, and down she came upon the sofa, all 
in a heap. 

The intruder then crawled out and stood 
up to his full height. It was Harmony’s 
friend and neighbor. Grig Winslow, rather 
dusty, but very triumphant. He regarded 
the crumpled defender of the stronghold 

and nursed his trodden hand. 

120 


AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK 121 


Harmony sat up, straightened her bonnet 
and preened her tumbled silks. 

‘‘Perhaps you think you’re smart?” she 
observed sarcastically. 

“Perhaps you think you hurt me?” re- 
plied Grig, thrusting his hands into his 
trousers’ pockets and trying not to grin at 
the angry lady. 

“ Thought you’d scare me, didn’t you? ” 
she continued, attempting to hide her in- 
jured dignity as he was concealing his in- 
jured fingers. 

“No thought about it,” scoffed Grig. 
“ Scared you stiff, and you know it.” Then 
like a generous foe, he assured her, “But 
really, I didn’t mean to scare you. Har- 
mony. I hoped you’d go before you found 
me.” 

Harmony’s curiosity was strong, and her 
indignation short-lived. 

“How did you get in?” she demanded 
eagerly. 

“ The window,” came the prompt answer. 


122 


HARMONY WINS 


Oh, Grig, weren’t you frightened to 
death? ” 

‘‘Well, I like that! ” remarked the young 
man. “ Why, you did it one day yourself. 
Harmony, and you’re only a girl.” 

“ But you told me I was a sport,” she 
said, greatly hurt to think he had dupli- 
cated her exploit so easily. 

“ So you were,” he acknowledged, “ but 
such things are easier for a boy to do. I 
thought surely you’d hear me when I 
stepped on the chair. It wiggled and 
screaked a little.” 

Harmony laughed. 

“ I did hear you,” she said, “ but I thought 
it was either a mouse or — or — something 
else.” She had almost said, “ the Spirit of 
Seventy-Six,” but caught herself just in 
time. 

Grig would never understand. 

“ Think you might say you’re glad foi see 
me,” complained Grig, beginning a deliber- 
ate investigation of the place. 


AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK 123 


‘‘I don’t know that I am,” replied the 
hostess, tartly. 

Grig grinned mischievously over his 
shoulder. 

“ ’Twasn’t ten minutes since you were 
wishing I was here. I heard you.” 

Harmony grew very pink in the face.' 

“ At any rate, it was rude of you to come 
without an invitation,” she retorted. 

I gave you fair warning. I said I’d 
find out your old secret, and I did,” re- 
sponded Grig in justification. Then, 

Jiminy fishhooks. Harmony,” he ex- 
claimed, abruptly letting the argument slip 
away, in face of keener interests, “ isn’t this 
a queer old museum? Look at the junk 
in these cases! What do you say to my 
dressing up, too, and we’ll have some jolly 
game, like " Surprised by the Indians ’ or 
‘The Defense of the Colonial Maiden,’ or 
something of that kind? ” 

This was so exactly what Harmony was 
aching to do that it seemed uncanny of Grig 


124 


HARMONY WINS 


to have thought of it, too. But she was also 
much afraid of being caught up here playing 
with Grig, and her common sense told her 
that she was running a risk to allow him to 
stay another moment. 

‘‘ I don’t know,” considered Grig, with a 
huge riding boot in one hand, a bow and 
arrow in the other, ‘‘ which I’d rather be, the 
governor 6f the colony or a wild red In- 
dian. Which do you say. Harmony?” 

‘‘Oh, s’pose you play you’re an Indian, 
and ” began Harmony, but with de- 

lightful contrariness. Grig interrupted. 

“No, I’ll be a soldier, a Revolutionary 
soldier, like that duffer over in the corner, 
and I’ll rescue you.” 

Harmony, unaware that her suggestion 
had been nipped in the bud, assented cheer- 
fully to the cavalier’s decision. 

“ All right. Then what? ” 

“You — ^you — I’ve got it! You’re to be 
ill your cottage, over there by the chest, 
playing on your piano ” 


AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK 125 

“ Spinet,” corrected Harmony. 

‘‘ Your thingumajig, I don’t care— Say, 
Harmony, what’ll I do for a hat? ” 

Involuntarily Harmony’s eyes glanced at 
the three-cornered aflPair adorning hero-o’- 
mine’s wig. 

‘‘ That’s it ! ” Grig cried, catching the im- 
plied suggestion, and without ceremony, 
whipped it off the figure’s head‘ and cram- 
med it down upon his own thick mop. 
“ Then I’m to come dashing along upon my 
horse' on my way to Boston with important 
dispatches — How do you think I look, 
anyway? Ain’t I the ticket, a regular top- 
notcher? ” 

Grig stalked heavily and slowly down the 
room in the enormous riding boots with the 
clanking iron spurs. He wore a handsome 
coat with tarnished epaulets that hung un- 
evenly from his boyish shoulders. The 
sleeves had to be turned up at the cuffs. 
He had buckled on a sword whose scabbard 
jangled on the floor as he walked. At the 


126 


HARMONY WINS 


window, Grig turned, and with his drawn 
sword gravely saluted the little dame. 

Oh, Grig, you’re lovely!” exclaimed 
the lady, clasping her hands in admiration. 
This gratified Grig, and forthwith he had 
an inspiration — an unusual one. 

So are you,” he exclaimed, lowering his 
sword and staring at her. 

She curtsied and smiled. 

Then in very dramatic accents. Grig con- 
tinued, “ I lay my life at your feet! ” 

Harmony giggled. 

‘‘ Go on,” she said, “ what comes next in 
the game? ” 

The gallant soldier clanked heavily to- 
ward her once more. 

“Well,” he continued, “as Fm riding 
along keeping sharp watch for the enemy, 
I catch sight of four Indians, creeping, 
creeping, slily up at the back of your cot- 
tage. I can see you at your spin — spinning- 
wheel and I know you are in terrible dan- 
ger.” 



“Oh, Grig, you’re lovely!” 


Page 126 . 


mamwihril III 




AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK 127 


Harmony softly sighed, ‘‘Oh!” The 
game took on qualities of realism from 
Grig’s thrilling manner. 

“ Then I draw my pistol,” Grig with diffi- 
culty brandished a great horse pistol’ nearly 
eighteen inches long, in a blood-thirsty 
fashion, “ leap from my horse and make a 
sudden rush upon the Indians. They are 
taken by surprise, so I kill two. Then you 
scream, and I am engaged with two of the 
villains. Then ” 

Grig stopped a moment to catch his 
breath and a new idea, so Harmony took up 
the story. 

“ Then I run and grab up a rifle that is 
standing in the corner of the room, and I 
shoot through the window and kill one of 
the Indians,” she invented glibly. 

“ Yes, and then I whack the other fellow 
over the head with the butt of my pistol — 
And there you are! ” concluded Grig. 

“ Oh — and then I’m so thankful to you 
that I run out of the door and hold out both 


128 


HARMONY WINS 


hands to you and say, ‘ Oh, sir, how can I 
thank you for saving my life! ’ ” cried Har- 
mony eagerly. 

“ And I say, ‘ I do not want you to thank 
me. It is reward enough to have been of 
service to you.’ And I mount my horse and 
ride away,” finished Grig. 

“ Oh, but that isn’t all,” exclaimed Har- 
mony. “ I must know your name, so I call 
out, ‘ May I not know the name of my pre- 
server? ’ ” 

“ Ought I to give you my name ? ” asked 
the gentlemanly hero. “ Shouldn’t I ride 
away without telling it? ” 

‘‘Oh, no. Grig, you must say modestly, 
‘If you would know it, my name, fair 
maiden, is Nathan Hale.’ ” 

“ Not on your life,” exclaimed Grig in- 
dignantly. “ I’m not going to take the part 
of that spy.” 

“ What do you mean. Grig Winslow? 
He couldn’t have been a spy. He was an 
ideal patriot.” Harmony flew to the rescue 


AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK 129 


of her hero’s name, with flashing eyes. 

He was a spy ! I can prove it to you 
by my United States history. Haven’t you 
studied about him in school yet? ” persisted 
Grig. 

“ No. But I’ve got a picture of him, and 
it says he’s a hero. He looks like one, too, 
and I don’t believe you at all.” Tears stood 
in Harmony’s eyes. 

“ Somebody’s been kiddin’ you. Come 
on. Harmony. I don’t mean to hurt your 
feelings. Truly, that’s what it says in my 
school history. He went into the British 
camp, disguised as a school teacher, to find 
out the force of the enemy and to get the 
plans of their fortifications and send them 
back to General Washington. True as I 
live. Harmony Hale, that’s what they say 
of him. He was an American spy.” 

“But he was a soldier, wasn’t he?” 
queried the girl. 

“ Sure. He was a captain, I guess. He 
was only a young man teaching school. 


130 


HARMONY WINS 


when the war broke out. Then, when he 
was on his way back to the American lines, 
the British caught him and found the plans 
of the English fortifications in his shoes, and 
they hanged him for a spy.” 

‘‘ Oh! ” Harmony gave a cry, and down 
came the shower of tears. “ Oh, I knew he 
was a hero. I knew he was brave,” she 
sobbed. 

Grig, elated at the vividness of his story, 
continued. 

‘‘ He said a pretty fine thing, though, just 
before he died. Want me to tell you. Har- 
mony? ” 

“ Yes,” she sniffed. 

^‘You’ll have to stop crying then. It 
makes me nervous.” 

“ I — IVe stopped,” Harmony stam- 
mered, mopping away the tears. 

It was just before he died,” went on 
the boy, enjoying the valiant spirit of the 
patriot-spy. “ They asked him if he had 
anything to say and his reply was ‘ I only 


AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK 131 


regret that I have but one life to give for my 
country. ’ ” 

Children are born hero-worshippers, and, 
although the heroic nature of these words 
was hidden from their youthful minds, both 
Harmony and Grig caught the perfume of 
great self-sacrifice and felt its inspiration. 

After a moment of silence. Harmony 
said, “ I’ll show you his picture, now.” 

She felt that, although Grig did not ac- 
knowledge it in words, he had begun to 
share her great admiration for the man. 

She produced the photograph of the 
statue, and they sat down on the great sofa 
and studied it together. 

“ I wonder why he didn’t have on a uni- 
form,” said Harmony. 

Grig enjoyed his role of instructor. 

‘‘Oh, this was on his way to execution. 
He was wearing his ordinary clothes. I 
think his hands are tied behind his back.” 

Grig turned the photograph over. “ See, 
it says. 


132 


HARMONY WINS 


‘‘ NATHAN HALE. 

This statue of Nathan Hale, the ideal 
American patriot, was designed and exe- 
cuted by William Ordway Partridge and 
erected by the Alumni of Yale on the Uni- 
versity Campus. It represents the young 
hero on his way to execution, wearing the 
simple garb of the schoolmaster, in which 
he was found by the British within their 
lines.” 

‘‘ NATHAN HALE 
One hero dies — a thousand new ones rise. 
As flowers are sown where perfect blos- 
soms fall; 

Then quite unknown, the name of Hale now 
cries 

Wherever duty sounds her silent call. 

‘‘With head erect he moved and stately 
pace 

To meet an awful doom — ^no ribald jest 
Brings scorn or hate to that exalted face; 
His thoughts are far away, poised and at 
rest; 


AN. UNEXPECTED ATTACK 133 


Now on the scaffold see him turn and bid 
Farewell to home, and all his heart holds 
dear. 

Majestic presence! — all man’s weakness hid. 
And all his strength in that last hour 
made clear: 

‘ My sole regret that it is mine to give 
Only one life, that my dear land may live.’ 
William Ordway Partridge.” 

‘‘Isn’t that beautiful?” murmured the 
little girl when Grig had finished reading. 
The boy nodded assent. 

“ I think he must be an ancestor of mine,” 
said Harmony in an awe-stricken voice. 

“ The name’s the same ” 

“ So it is— Hale,” said Grig agreeably. 
“ Perhaps he was.” 

“Don’t you think it’s very wonderful?” 
she asked wistfully. “ You wouldn’t mind 
his being a — a spy, would you? ” 

“No,” Grig assured her, “the more I 
think of it, the more I think he was a sport. 


134 


HARMONY WINS 


Just fancy his walking calmly into the 
British lines and getting all the information 
Washington wanted, right under the ene- 
my’s nose. Wheel He was a smart one. 
I’d like to do something like that! ” 

Harmony’s backbone stiffened under this 
praise, and her eyes danced proudly be- 
neath the old-fashioned bonnet brim. 

“ I — I wish he was your ancestor, too,” 
she said generously. 

"" Oh, don’t you worry about me,” laughed 
Grig. ‘VYou can keep your hero all to 
yourself. Father says we’ve got a whole 
raft of them in our family, somewheres. I 
must get him to tell me about them. Just 
because Father’s a poor man’s no reason 
I shouldn’t be proud of my ancestors. 
Father’s an inventor. Harmony, and do you 
know, they’re always poor.” 

‘‘Is that so?” asked the girl, all sym- 
pathy, “always and always?” 

“ Pretty nearly. But when I grow up, I 
intend to be a business man, and I shall take 


AN. UNEXPECTED ATTACK 135 


up Father’s patents and make him rich. 
Won’t that be fine, Harmony? ” 

“ Oh, beautiful! I didn’t know you could 
do such wonderful things, Grig.” 

“Watch me!” said Grig, straightening 
his shoulders under the falling gold epaulets. 

Harmony gazed at him in admiration. 

Grig grinned at her. Suddenly he 
grabbed the photograph again. 

“ Jiminy fishhooks!” he exclaimed, “I 
believe you look like your hero. Let’s see.” 

The two heads in their old-fashioned gear 
bent fascinated over the photograph, trying 
to search out a resemblance between the face 
of the hero and that of the little girl. 

“ I wonder what color his eyes ” be- 

gan Grig, glancing up. 

He stopped, petrified with surprise. 

Harmony looked up, too. 

There in the doorway stood Grandfather 
Hale and the fairy godmother! 


CHAPTER X 


DISCOVEEED 

T he silence for a moment was appal- 
ling. 

The children were stiff with fright. 
The grown people stood and stared at the 
quaint figures on the sofa. Then Grand- 
father strode forward and roared at them 
like an angry lion. Harmony couldn’t 
think, the catastrophe, now that it really had 
come, was so terrifying. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” he 
shouted. “Tell me that! What are you 
doing here? ” He glowered at Harmony, 
and she rose to her feet, her knees shaking. 

“ Oh, Grandfather, we ” she fal- 

tered. 

“You’re a little minx!” he interrupted 
furiously. “How did you get here? Tell 

136 


DISCOVERED 


137 


me that! Breaking into a locked room! 
Where did you get the key? I’ll punish 
you for this! ” 

‘‘Why, Grandfather, I, she at- 

tempted once more. 

“ You’re a nice pair of sneak thieves, you 
two,” he broke in again. “ Making a play- 
room of my museum! Destroying valu- 
able property, priceless. I tell you* price- 
less ” 

“ Oh, but. Grandfather, we really haven’t 
hurt a thing,” Harmony shrilly announced. 
This brought his attention back to her. 

“You’re a meddlesome little imp! I’ll 
teach you! Bread and water and your own 
room for a week. Hear that? You’ll know 
better next time than to paw around among 
my things. I’ll make you sorry.” 

He glanced keenly around the room from 
under his shaggy, frowning brows. Grig 
moved hastily down to the far end of the 
sofa. His clanking spurs and saber caught 
Grandfather’s angry gaze. 


138 


HARMONY WINS 


“ As for you, you young house-breaker, 
111 give you a lesson youll not soon forget. 
You won’t be so quick to trespass on your 
neighbor’s premises, after I get through 
caning you.” He pounded upon the floor 
with his stick and approached the horrified 
boy. I won’t have my house broken into 
by street urchins and ragamuffins like you, 
without protest.” He reached out towards 
Grig, when Mrs. Goodwin gently inter- 
posed. 

She touched the bitter old man on the 
arm, and said softly, There, there, Mr. 
Hale, I am sure the children meant no mis- 
chief.” 

He turned angrily upon her. 

‘‘ You, too? Are you a party to this out- 
rage? Can’t I punish two meddling chil- 
dren without your interference? Is it any 
of your business? Tell me that!” 

“ No,” answered Mrs. Goodwin, calmly 
eying him, “ it’s really none of my business, 
of course. But I’m sure the children were 


DISCOVERED 


139 


playing here quite harmlessly. While they 
had no right ” 

‘‘No right, no right? Now you’re talk- 
ing common sense. I should think they had 
no right. Do you realize, madam, that this 
collection of Revolutionary relics is worth 
thousands of dollars? Thousands! And 
time. I’ve been forty years gathering it 
here. And now to have two little sneaks 
like these,” he indicated the culprits by a 
sweep of his cane, “break in upon it and 
turn it topsy-turvy; do you think I can stand 
by and look on with a smile? No, madam, 
no!” 

Harmony, who had been gathering cour- 
age during this speech of Grandfather’s, 
now stumbled forward in her long gown and 
held up the large photograph. 

“ Grandfather, won’t you please tell us 
about Nathan Hale? ” she pleaded. 

“ Nathan Hale? What do you know 
about Nathan Hale? Where did you get 
that photograph?” He scowled down 


140 


HARMONY WJCNS 


upon the picture Harmony held towards 
him, and then at the eager little face framed 
in the ancient bonnet. 

“I found it in the chest,” she gasped, 
‘‘ and I do so want to know if he was one 
of our ancestors. Was he. Grandfather? ” 

“The chest? So that’s where you’ve 
been for your masquerade things? Not any 
place safe from your meddlesome fingers.” 

He thumped down the room and peered 
into the chest. Then he leaned over and 
lifted out a long narrow package. He laid 
his cane upon the spinet, and with fingers 
that shook a little, took from its wrappings 
an old-fashioned sword. 

“ That,” he said proudly, holding it across 
both hands and pointedly addressing Mrs. 
Goodwin, “that is the sword of Nathan 
Hale, Captain. It’s been difficult work 
finding relics of Hale, but this is authentic. 
A great treasure.” 

At the words “sword of Nathan Hale,” 
both children made short work of getting to 


DISCOVERED 


141 


the spot and stood, wide-eyed with awe, star- 
ing at the narrow blade as Grandfather 
slipped it half out of its sheath. 

‘‘ When I was quite a young man, I 
found that Nathan Hale and I were blood 
relations, though many generations re- 
moved,” continued Grandfather Hale, un- 
consciously speaking to his absorbed little 
audience. ‘‘ I had a tremendous admira- 
tion for the man, ofttimes called a spy, and 
I made a determined effort to secure every 
bit of information about him that I could. 
I bought that uniform on the figure, with 
the assurance that it had been Hale’s and 
later found that it was not. But there,” 
he sheathed the sword quickly and wrapped 
it up again, “ you don’t deserve to see it.” 

‘‘ Oh, but it’s wonderful,” exclaimed Har-' 
mony, her eyes glowing. “ Do tell us more. 
It seems as if everything here whispers lit- 
tle stories of the past, if only our ears could 
hear. You’ll tell us some of them, won’t 
you? ” 


142 HARMONY WINS 

Grandfather watched her from under his 
frowning brows. 

‘‘ I couldn’t find many of Hale’s things,” 
he said gruffly, not answering her appeal, 
directly, “only some letters and books be- 
side his sword. But I grew so interested in 
the Revolutionary period, that I made my 
collection include things belonging to the 
early colonists and the Indians. Every ar- 
ticle here has its story. There isn’t a better 
collection of Revolutionary relics outside of 
the New England States.” 

There was a gleam in his eyes that 
matched Harmony’s, as he gazed about 
among his treasures. He loved these things 
he had spent the best years of his life in 
gathering. 

Suddenly his face became stern again. 
He picked up his cane and thumped upon 
the floor with it. 

“ A number of years ago,” he said loudly 
and roughly, “ I lost interest in my museum. 
“ I had ” He paused and looked down 


DISCOVERED 


143 


at Harmony, who was lovingly regarding 
the picture of the patriot. “ Trouble,” he 
continued. Since then I have bought few 
things, and all you see, are now neglected. 
I have books and maps and papers that are 
so precious, they would make the eyes of 
collectors bulge. But they are stowed 
away uncatalogued. My office is piled with 
valuable papers falling into tatters. IVe 
lost interest.” He said the last words sadly. 

Harmony gasped. '‘Oh, Grandfather,” 
she exclaimed, putting a tremulous little 
hand on the knotted one that held the ter- 
rifying cane, " Grandfather, I love all your 
treasures here, the way you do. I under- 
stand about them. Won’t you teach me to 
take care of them and let me help you? ” 

“ There, there,” he muttered harshly, pay- 
ing no heed to the fluttering little hand. 
"We’ll see, we’ll see. Come, get out of 
these fallals now, and be quick about it. By 
the way, where did you get the key? ” 
Harmony’s fright came back. 


144 


HARMONY WINS 


I — I — I found one that fitted. I — IVe 
got a collection, and one of them fitted. 
You see — I was hunting for your treasure, 

your piles o’ gold’ and ” 

Piles o’ gold! ” shouted Grandfather, in 
a rage again. “ Whose piles o’ gold? What 
gold? What do you mean?” 

“ Why, yours. Grandfather,” faltered 
Harmony, retreating hurriedly and almost 
falling backwards over the trailing folds of 
silken gown, “ People say, you know, that 
you’ve got heaps and heaps of treasure hid- 
den away,” she continued bravely. 

“ I have, have I ? Heaps and heaps of 
treasure ! People say ! And what’s that to 
you, you troublesome little imp?” he thun- 
dered. 

But here Harmony’s spirit met his own. 

‘‘ It was only a game. Grandfather,” she 
spoke up bravely. “ I don’t think you 
should mind my hunting for the treasure. 
I didn’t find any gold, but I think the treas- 
ure I did find, all these wonderful things, 


DISCOVERED 


145 


and Nathan Hale, is much nicer than gold. 
And if I’m going to be your heiress, I’d a 
great deal rather have this treasure than 
piles and piles ’o gold.” 

‘‘ Didn’t I tell you to take off those 
things?” demanded Grandfather, after a 
moment. “ And put them away carefully. 
See to that. Nice-looking place you’ve 
made of it,” he growled, “ the two of you 
together, rummaging through my collection. 
Remember, this. Harmony. You may be 
my heiress, but the things are not yours yet, 
and it’ll be some years before they are! ” 
Oh, I know that,” Harmony said 
sweetly, “and we’ll put them all away, 
just as we found them.” She turned to 
Mrs. Goodwin to help her out of the whim- 
sical old gown. 

Meantime Grig had been divesting him- 
self of the huge boots, the sword’ and the 
coat with the epaulets. Now he tramped 
up to the fuming old man and addressed 
him gallantly. 


146 


HARMONY WINS 


‘‘ It was my fault, entirely, my being 
here, Mr. Hale,” he said, “ not Harmony’s. 
I’m sorry, I oughtn’t to have come with- 
out your permission, and — and it was very 
wrong, my dressing up in your clothes.” 

“.Well, well,” snarled the old man, “go 
on.” 

“I was angry,” continued Grig, “be- 
cause Harmony wouldn’t tell me all about 
the secret. I thought I’d play Old Sleuth 
and find out for myself. So I climbed in 
at the window this morning and hid under 
the sofa. She thought it was a mouse, the 
noises I made, I mean, and I’m afraid I 
frightened her pretty badly when I 
sneezed,” 

“ No, you didn’t either,” declared Har- 
mony stoutly. 

“ Go on, go on,” said Grandfather, 

“ So then I proposed dressing up and 
playing a game. Oh, it was my fault, Mr. 
Hale.” 

“ All right, all right. Go on, sir.” 


DISCOVERED 


147 


Grandfather scowled at the boy. 

“ Well— that’s about all, Mr. Hale, ex- 
cept — Oh, do you know what color his eyes 
were? ” Grig burst out earnestly. 

Blue,” the old man announced tersely. 

“ Oh! ” exclaimed Grig and Harmony in 
a duet of disappointment. 

“ That’s too bad,” continued the boy, I 
really thought Harmony looked something 
like Nathan Hale.” 

‘‘ So she does, so she does,” exclaimed 
^Grandfather unexpectedly. He walked to- 
wards the door, then turned abruptly and 
glowered at the children. 

“ Come, come,” he exclaimed. Didn’t 
I tell you to take off your fancy dress and 
clear out? Do you suppose I am going to 
be patient under your meddlesome inter- 
ference?” Then he turned to Mrs. Good- 
win and bowed with an old-fashioned ele- 
gance of manner that contrasted sharply 
with his anger and rudeness of a few mo- 
ments before. 


148 


HARMONY WINS 


'' Madam, shall we go? ” he asked. 

Nodding to the children, with a smile, the 
lady preceded Grandfather Hale down the 
staircase. 

The children followed at a respectful dis- 
tance. Suddenly he turned back and ad- 
dressed them roughly. 

You two little bandits, shut that win- 
dow, pack away all your borrowed finery 
and see that everything is in perfect order 
before you leave. Boy, when you’re ready, 
come down the stairs and go out the front 
door like an honest man. Girl, I’ll see to 
your case later.” 

The children watched his shaggy gray 
head disappear down the staircase. Then 
they turned to each other in astonishment 
and congratulation. 

‘‘He’s left us the keyl” they exclaimed 
in unison. 


CHAPTER XI 


A QUARREL 

E ileen declared that Mrs. Goodwin 
was a witch. 

‘‘Anybody that can get around 
your grumpy, old grandfather like she has, 
is a witch,” she assured Harmony. “ Who’d 
’a’ thought of wanting to visit his musty old 
museum? Nobody but her. She was crazy 
CO go as soon as she heard tell of the place, 
and he took her. And then, when he found 
you two kids playing up -there, did he snap 
your heads off, like he should have done? 
Not a bit of it! He was as mild as milk.” 

“Not quite,” laughed Harmony, “al- 
though he didn’t forbid our going again. 
But oh, Eileen, it was terrible, the way he 
scolded and shouted.” 

“ He’d ’a’ been much worse if it hadn’t ’a’ 

149 


150 HARMONY WINS 

been for Mrs. Goodwin. She’s fair be- 
witched him. Saints preserve us, child, but 
you’d have got it hot and heavy if he’d been 
alone.” 

Harmony looked serious. She had hoped 
that Grandfather would be different after 
that day in the treasure chamber. But he 
wasn’t. ‘‘ Not so’s you could notice it,” as 
Grig said. If he had been secretly touched 
by her worship of his hero, he had not in- 
dicated it to her in any way, but passed her 
by as usual without greeting. He had not, 
however, insisted upon solitary confinement 
for her, with a bread and water diet. 

“ And look at your new clo’es,” continued 
Eileen with a little grudging in her tones, 
“Do you s’pose I could have squeezed 
more’n five dollars out o’ him for things for 
you? Not much. And bless you! She 
got twenty-five, if she got a cent, and you’ve 
actually enough now so’t ye needn’t be 
ashamed of yourself any more.” 

“ I never was ashamed, Eileen,” objected 


151 


A QUARREL 

Harmony proudly, ‘‘ I didn’t know any dif- 
ferent, then. But I do like to look nice. 
Is pink becoming to me? ” 

She was not yet used to the big butterfly 
that crowned her silky crop of curls. Each 
time she caught a passing glimpse of it in a 
mirror, she would wonder for an instant 
what little girl that could be. 

This morning, as Eileen buttoned the 
crisp chambray frock that matched the rib- 
bon, she was especially anxious to look well. 
The world was hers, now. She was prepar- 
ing to sally forth to make friends. 

The matter of friends had had the serious 
consideration of Mrs. Goodwin. 

I don’t understand. Harmony, why you 
do not have friends, little girl friends. 
That boy. Grig, and the Italian piano man 
seem to be the only ones outside the house. 
I don’t like it. It’s not natural. Every- 
body should have friends. There isn’t a joy 
in life that is more to be cherished than 
friendship. What is the matter, Harmony? 


152 HARMONY WINS 

You say even your teachers don’t care for 
you.” 

Harmony looked puzzled and a little sul- 
len. 

P’raps because I was dirty and ragged,” 
she suggested. 

Mrs. Gdbdwin shook her head. No, 
not entirely so. I remember, when I went 
to school, one of the most untidy little girls 
of my acquaintance was the greatest fav- 
orite. She was so merry and warm-hearted 
and sweet, that we all loved her. She grew 
into a splendid woman.” 

Grandfather? ” asked Harmony softly. 

‘‘No, I hardly think so. Children don’t 
care who you are, if you are a good com- 
panion.” 

Harmony gave the fairy godmother a 
quick glance. “ There’s nobody I like,” 
she exclaimed. “ The teachers are horrid. 
They have favorites. One said once that I 
was dirty. The last one told me I was 
stupid. I can’t help it. When they go on 


153 


A QUARREL 

and on, explaining things to the other chil- 
dren, I get to thinking about stories and — 
and things, and I don’t hear what they’re 
saying. Of course, then, I can’t answer 
questions! They’re so impatient. I always 
hate ’em. I like my new one the best of 
any. Yesterday she had a cold and couldn’t 
read aloud to us the story of ‘ Beautiful Joe,’ 
that she reads days when we’re ’specially 
good. So she asked who’d take her place. 
I offered, and she seemed surprised. But 
she let me do it, and afterwards said that I’d 
read it wonderfully well.”' 

Harmony waited a moment, but Mrs. 
Goodwin said nothing. 

“ There’s a little girl in my room, this 
year, that I think I’d like to know,” she 
continued wistfully. “ Her name’s J ean — 
Jean McLaren. She’s got brown eyes and 
a great thick braid of brown hair. She’s 
awfully smart, too. Doesn’t miss a thing. 
She smiled at me the other day. I think 
I’d like to know her.” 


154 


HARMONY WINS 


Mrs. Goodwin spoke. Harmony, there 
is no reason why you shouldn’t have Jean 
McLaren for a friend, or any other little 
girl, if you wish. It is your fault that you 
aren’t friends with your teachers and school- 
mates. How can you expect people to love 
you when you don’t like them? It is selfish 
of you. You must try to like them. Offer 
them your friendship. It will seldom be re- 
fused. I’m sorry for your teacher. Of 
course she would be impatient and think you 
Stupid when you fail to pay attention. It 
is not kind of you to hinder your teacher 
that way. She has enough really stupid, 
badly-behaved children to try her nerves, 
without your making more trouble. I wish 
you’d go to school to-morrow. Harmony, 
with the determination to like your teacher 
and your schoolmates and to keep your mind 
strictly on your work. No more dreaming 
in school hours! Will you try. Har- 
mony? ” 

This was almost a scolding from the fairy 


155 


A QUARREL 

godmother, and, if it hadn’t been given with 
the kind gray eyes looking tenderly into 
hers, Harmony would have felt some resent- 
ment. But the little girl knew that, some- 
how, the words were just. 

Had she been selfish? Had she been un- 
kind? If so, she had not intended it. She 
resolved to remember what Mrs. Goodwin 
said and to make a new beginning at school. 

So this morning Harmony was full of her 
purpose’ and anxious to look her best. 

When she was ready for school, Eileen 
said, "‘Darlin’, would ye mind takin’ the 
mornin’ paper up to Dear-Me? I’d kind of 
like to have her see you lookin’ as sweet as a 
peach.” 

So Harmony ran upstairs and knocked at 
Dear-Me’s door. 

“ Come,” drawled the fretful voice. 

Harmony tried not to “ bounce,” as she 
entered and approached the bed. 

“ Here’s the paper. Mother,” she an- 
nounced, laying it on the coverlet, “ and 


156 


HARMONY WINS 


Eileen thought perhaps you’d like to see my 
new dress.” 

The black eyes of the woman on the bed 
looked critically at the small figure in pink. 

“ You do look nice, Harmonee. Mrs. 
Goodwin came and asked me, one day, if 
she couldn’t help to get you fixed up for fall, 
knowing how ill I am. I told her I’d be 
only too thankful to have her do it.” 

She paused and closed her eyes wearily. 
After a moment, she opened them again and 
continued: “ She’s a nice woman — ^that Mrs. 
Goodwin. Dear me, I dreaded her so. I 
thought I’d mind her piano especially. But 
I don’t. It’s sort of company for me. I 
get so lonely, lying here all the time. Mrs. 
Goodwin has been very kind. I hope you 
thanked her, Harmonee.” 

“ Oh, yes,” responded the child, fairly 
dancing in her eagerness. “ Indeed I did. 
I call her my fairy godmother.” 

That’s nice,” said Dear-me, closing her 
eyes once more. ‘^And now run along. 


157 


A QUARREL 

Harmonee. Dear me, you’re so restless. 
To-night I shall want you to go to the li- 
brary for me.” 

Harmony hurried away. 

“My! look at the swell lid,” shouted a 
boy’s voice, as she turned the corner. It 
was Grig. “ Where’d you get the hat, and 
the coat, and the new shoes? Jiminy fish- 
hooks 1 but you’re dressy. May I walk 
albngside, or ain’t I togged out enough to 
suit you?” 

“ Oh, Grig, how silly you are,” protested 
the girl, flushing a little. “One’d think I 
never had anything new before.” 

“Well, I never saw you in any,” said the 
boy bluntly. “ You’ll certainly knock the 
spots off all the other girls.” 

Compliments from Grig, even of this 
rough and ready kind, were unusual, and 
Harmony was pleased. She told him some- 
thing about Mrs. Goodwin’s kindness to her. 

“She’s all right! I like her, too. She 
treats a fellow like a gentleman,” agreed 


158 


HARMONY WINS 


loyal Grig. By the way, Harmony, who’s 
that new girl in your room, the girl with the 
long braid? ” 

“ That’s Jean McLaren. There sha is 
now, standing by the gate. I’m going to 
be friends with her. Grig. Good-bye. See 
you to-night.” 

Harmony flitted on ahead, her whole pur- 
pose intent on Jean. Jean saw her coming 
and smiled a welcome that was heartening. 
Nevertheless, when Harmony had reached 
the gate, bashfulness overcame her, and she 
hung back. 

Not so Jean. She was ready to make 
friends at the first overture and called out, 
“ Hello, Harmony. I was waiting for you. 
See what I’ve got in my speller! ” 

Harmony approached, her face aglow. 

‘‘ Oh, Jean, were you really waiting for 
me?” 

Jean nodded. 

“I thought, yesterday, that I’d like to 
know you,” she said. ‘‘Your hair’s so 


159 


A QUARREL 

pretty. If |you had straight brown hair, 
like mine, you’d realize how I envy a girl 
with curls. Do you play paper dolls, or do 
you think you’re too old? ” 

Harmony shook her head, I never had 
a doll in my life. I don’t think I should 
care for them particularly. What’s in your 
speller? ’’ 

Jean looked disappointed. It’s the 
prettiest paper doll you ever saw.” She 
opened the book and displayed her treasure. 
“ Isn’t she a beauty? I wish you did like 
paper dolls just a little. Oh, dear, there’s 
the bell!” 

“ I’ll try to like them,” reassured Har- 
mony in an eager whisper. “ Can’t you 
come to my house, to-night?” 

The new friend nodded affirmatively. 

After school, when Grig was lingering 
near the corner of Elm and Spruce streets, 
waiting for Harmony to join him, he was 
rather chagrined to see two little girls frolic- 
ing gaily home together. Harmony and 


160 


HARMONY WINS 


Jean went straightway into the house, with 
a careless nod for him, and shut the door. 

Grig lost his grin for thirty seconds. 
“ They’re too thick,” he remarked. 
‘‘ ’Twon’t last,” he concluded as he went 
away by himself. 

Upstairs, in Harmony’s bedroom, which 
now possessed a rocking chair, a bed spread, 
a bureau scarf, curtains and a few pictures, 
thanks to Mrs. Goodwin, the two little girls 
settled themselves for a good time. 

Harmony had never played with another 
little girl before. Jean found her very 
amusing. 

‘‘ I declare, Harmony,” she laughed, 
*‘you are the oddest girl.” 

Jean, who loved to direct enterprises, was 
in her element. What lots Harmony had 
to learn that other girls knew! Jean de- 
termined to teach her. 

For several days they played together 
happily. Grig hung around and grinned 
scornfully a while, but finally left with a 



Thk two little girls settled themselves for a good time 

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A QUARREL 161 

neighborhood baseball team. The break 
didn’t come as soon as he had expected. 

One day after school, Jean said she had 
to go right home. 

“ Mother wants me,” she told Harmony. 
“ I’m awfully sorry. Good-bye.” She ran 
off in a hurry. 

The same thing happened the next night. 
Jean seemed good friends at (school, but 
Harmony missed the new playmate who 
was always so busy and so chock full of 
ideas. 

When her friend started home the third 
night. Harmony knew that something must 
be wrong. She stopped Jean. 

‘‘ Wait a moment,” she said. What’s 
your hurry? Why can’t you go home with 
me to-night? ” 

Oh, because,” Jean answered, balancing 
on one foot, ready to run. 

“ That’s no answer. I don’t believe you 
want to! ” exclaimed Harmony. 

Oh, yes, I do. But Mother won’t let — 


162 HARMONY WINS 

I mean, Mother said I was to come right 
home.” 

‘‘ She won’t let you? ” questioned Har- 
mony. “ Why not? ” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t know — just because,” re- 
sponded Jean carelessly. 

“ You’re just horrid! I don’t believe you 
like me one bit ! And I think your mother’s 
horrid, too, not to let you come! ” cried Har- 
mony angrily. 

J ean’s dark eyes flashed. 

‘‘ Don’t you speak about my Mother like 
that!” she threatened. “She’s got good 
reasons for not letting me! And she’s 
enough sight better’n that mean old grand- 
father of yours! ” 

“ Don’t you dare to talk to me like that! ” 
Harmony responded, getting very red in 
the face and stamping her foot. 

“I’ll say what I please to you. My 
mother says you wouldn’t live in that dirty 
old house if you were real nice people and 
that I mustn’t associate with you. So 


A QUARREL 163 

there!” STean tossed her head, turned on 
her heel and walked away. 

For a moment Harmony was furious. 
Helpless to do or say anything more, she 
watched Jean out of sight. Then she 
started home. 

So this was the way friendships turned 
out! She’d never make another friend as 
long as she lived! She’d just tell Mrs. 
Goodwin all about it and show her that 
there was no use trying. It wasn’t her 
fault. 

Wasn’t any of it her fault? Wouldn’t 
Mrs. Goodwin blame her some? Come to 
think of it, perhaps part of it was. She had 
said several mean things — ^not so mean, to be 
sure, as those Jean had said. But she'd 
said them first. 

Grig met her at the corner. 

‘‘Hullo, Harmony,” he called cheerily. 
“Where’s your chum?” 

“Gone home!” replied the girl shortly. 

Grig opened his mouth to say, “ I told 


164 


HARMONY WINS 


you so,” then thought better of it. Instead, 
he said, “ Come on. Let’s play something.” 

‘‘ I — I don’t feel like it. Grig. I guess 
I’ll go in.” 

As the door closed behind her. Grig gave 
vent to a long whistle. 

‘‘Gee,” he commented, “wonder what’s 
gone wrong!” 

He stood in deep thought for two min- 
utes. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets 
and his chin in the air. 

“ Guess I’ll take a walk,” he said. 

Presently he approached the house where 
Jean lived. The latter was just coming 
down the steps, two books under her arm. 

“ Hullo, there,” called Grig genially. 
“ Going to the library? So’m I. I’ll carry 
your books for you.” 

A half-hour later he was back in his own 
neighborhood, a perplexed frown overshad- 
owing his usual wide grin. He walked 
slowly. 

“ So it’s to be war,” he mused. 


A QUARREL 


165 


Suddenly he snapped his fingers and 
laughed in relief. 

‘‘ I’ve got it,” he exclaimed. “ Mrs. 
Goodwin! The proper method of settling 
wars nowadays is arbitration. We’ll see 
what arbitration will do.” And looking 
sharp that Harmony shouldn’t meet him, 
he vanished within the Hale house. 


CHAPTER XII 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 

T he following day was Saturday and 
Harmony spent many anxious mo- 
ments trying to make up her mind 
what she ought to do about her quarrel with 
Jean. She said nothing of it to Mrs. Good- 
win. 

She hadn’t quite decided what was best 
when the fairy godmother invited her to a 
tea-party that afternoon at five o’clock. 

‘‘You may come as early as four,” she 
said. “ Wear the pretty white muslin that 
I made for you, if you wish. There will be 
two other guests.” 

Harmony was quite excited. Invitations 
to any sort of festivity, even a tea-party, 
were rare occasions. 

She wondered and wondered who could 

be coming, Mrs. Goodwin knew so few 
166 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 167 


people in the city. It seemed as if the 
clock would never reach the appointed 
hour! 

Finally it struck four, and she ran down 
the hall to Mrs. Goodwin’s room. She could 
hear several voices, and it sounded quite 

gay. 

Mrs. Goodwin opened to her knock, and 
as she entered, she was caught in a pair of 
arms and squeezed almost to death. 

“ Oh, you darling! ” cried a voice, so like 
•Jean’s that Harmony couldn’t believe her 
ears. ‘‘ I’m so sorry I was mean yesterday! 
You made me so mad! ” 

Harmony pulled away from the hug. If 
was Jean, Jean radiant in her best frock, 
apologizing for all she was worth. 

“ I was mean first,” said Harmony va- 
liantly. ‘‘ I’m awfully sorry, too. I was 
going to tell you so, Monday.” At that 
moment Harmony was sure she would have 
gone to Jean and made all amends in her 
power. 


168 


HARMONY WINS 


Well, you see,” went on Jean, swinging 
Harmony’s hands as she talked, “ I was real 
angry with Mother, because she forbade me 
to come here. And then, when you said she 
was horrid, I was mad at you. It was too 
bad all ’round. And if it hadn’t been for 
dear Mrs. Goodwin, I can’t imagine when 
we’d have gotten things straightened out. 
She just came over this morning and saw 
Mother’ and made it as right as right could 
be. I don’t know what Mrs. Goodwin could 
have told her, but Mother says I may come 
here whenever you want me and that I 
shall have you over to see me, too. Isn’t 
it lovely?” 

Over Jean’s shoulder, Harmony caught 
sight of Grig, winking at her and grin- 
ning in the most provoking fashion. 

It did seem as if Eileen was right, that 
Mrs. Goodwin was a witch and had a magic 
wand that made wrong things right and sad 
things happy. 

She laughed at the two girls and called 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 169 

them '' silly,” and told Grig to start some 
game. 

When he proposed parchesi,” Harmony 
discovered that the board was in her room. 

“ I’ll get it in a minute,” she cried. 

The hall was dusky as she scampered 
through it. Just as she reached her own 
door, she heard a sound. It seemed to come 
from the floor above. 

She stopped and listened. There was an- 
other sound, very soft, further away! It 
was strange. Who could be going upstairs 
at this late afternoon hour? Certainly not 
Eileen, and Grandfather always made a 
great deal more noise. 

Harmony was curious. She came back 
to the staircase and very quietly ascended 
to the untenanted third floor. There was 
no one in sight. 

“ It must be on the stairs to the treasure 
chamber,” she thought. She went up two 
steps and looked. There in the dim light 
she distinctly saw the figure of a man. He 


1701 


HARMONY WINS, 


was stooping a little to work at the lock of 
the iron-barred gate. 

Harmony was puzzled. That was not 
Grandfather. The man had dark hair and 
was too short. It must be somebody who 
had no business there. It must be a 
thief I 

Just then she heard the lock click, and 
the man threw open the gate. 

Realizing that if he looked over his shoul- 
der, she would be seen, Harmony returned 
to the foot of the stairs and hid behind the 
pillar. She had scarcely concealed herself 
before he glanced sharply behind him. See- 
ing nothing suspicious, he turned his atten- 
tion to the lock of the door, which took him 
a couple of minutes to unfasten. 

Harmony stood still, wondering what to 
do. Should she shout, or run for help? 
Shouting would bring nobody but Mrs. 
Goodwin, Grig and Jean. Before Grand- 
father could get there, the man could easily 
escape. If she ran for help* the intruder 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 171 


would have plenty of time to get away. 

O dear, what should she do! Grand- 
father’s priceless treasures would be stolen 
unless she could act quickly. They were 
her treasures, too, in a way, and she loved 
them all. 

She was about to venture up the stairs 
again when the man looked back once more. 
She was too quick for him. 

Then he flung wide the door and stepped 
into the big room, which was light in com- 
parison to the staircase and halls. Harmony 
could see him plainly. 

She went cautiously up a few steps. The 
man must have heard her, for he turned to 
the door. 

“ Who’s there?” he asked in a threaten- 
ing undertone, peering down. 

Harmony shrank against the wall, but he 
caught sight of her little white figure in the 
dusk of the stairway. He spoke again after 
a second’s pause. 

“Don’t you dare move, girl, or I’ll 


172 


HARMONY WINS 


shoot ! ” He reached towards his hip 
pocket, as though to find a pistol. 

Harmony held her breath. Then she 
measured the distance to the top. There 
were about seven more steps to the thresh- 
old, but if she could take three of them she 
could reach the lower corner of the gate. 

She gathered all her muscles for the dash. 
Then, like a shot, she scampered forward, 
caught the gate in a firm grip and swung 
it to with all the strength she had. It closed 
with a crash, and Harmony heard the lock 
click. She had turned the trick on the thief. 
He was a prisoner! 

‘‘ Still, if he really has a pistol, he can 
fire through the meshes of the netting,” she 
thought nervously. 

The gate had closed so nearly in his face 
that the man started back to save himself 
from being struck by it. Before he could 
recover his balance. Harmony had scuttled 
down the stairs. 

“ Come back, you little fiend, come back,” 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 173 


he shouted in a towering rage. But Har- 
mony didn’t wait to hear him. She was mor- 
tally in fear of the threatened pistol, now, 
and listened only for the shot. 

It did not come, however, and she 
reached the foot of the stairs in safety. 

When she burst into Grandfather’s office, 
thirty seconds later, without knocking, there 
was a maddening yapping and snarling 
from Zip and Mose, before she could ex- 
plain herself. Mose was on his shelf, where 
he could do no mischief, and a stranger was 
sitting with Grandfather. As she plunged 
into the room, both men were greatly aston- 
ished, and Grandfather was plainly very 
angry. He threatened the dogs, and they 
finally ceased from their noisiest demon- 
strations. 

“There’s — a — thief — in the treasure 
chamber,” Harmony gasped, “ locked in — 
I — I think he’s— got— a— pistol!” She 
stopped to catch her breath. 

“Good heavens. Harmony!” exclaimed 


174 


HARMONY WINS 


Grandfather, rising to his feet. “ Talk 
sense. Say it again.” 

Harmony was angry. “ There’s a thief, 
I say,” she repeated tartly, “ upstairs. In 
your treasure chamber. Locked in. I saw 
him. I slammed the gate on him. Go — go 
get him! I think he’s got a pistol.” 

There was no mistaking the message this 
time. Grandfather ransacked his desk for 
a revolver, finding one under the confused 
mass of papers. Then he and the visitor 
prepared to attack the thief. 

“ How did you happen to find him? ” 
asked the strange gentleman over his shoul- 
der, as they hurried upstairs. 

“ I heard queer sounds up there, so I 
followed them right up to the attic stair- 
way. I found him, working at the lock. 
Then he opened it and went in.” 

Harmony was still short of breath. She 
gasped a little. 

“ An’ then he saw me — an’ he told me to 
stand still or he’d shoot — an’ I was afraid. 


AN. INTERRUPTED PARTY 175 


but I ran quick up the stairs an’ slammed 
the gate. It fastens with a spring.” 

‘‘ Gee, what a gritty kid! ” the man mut- 
tered, but Harmony did not understand 
him. 

‘‘ Don’t come any farther,” commanded 
Grandfather, so the little girl was obliged 
to wait at the foot of the last flight of stairs. 

^"Put up your pistol!” called Grand- 
father, as he proceeded towards the top. 
‘‘ Your game’s up. There are several of 
us.” 

There was no sound from the man in the 
attic, so Grandfather opened the gate and 
entered the room, his friend close behind 
him. 

The treasure chamber had been hurriedly 
ransacked, and the window was open, as 
though the man had made an effort to And 
something of value and then sought some 
means of escape. But when Grandfather 
entered he was sitting on the old mahogany 
sofa, his head in his hands. 


176 


HARMONY WINS 


Harmony knew, for when no shots were 
fired, she disobeyed and followed to the top 
of the stairs. 

“ So-ho, it’s you!” laughed Grandfather 
unpleasantly. I’ve caught you red- 
handed. Give me your gun 1 ” 

‘‘ I haven’t any,” whined the thief. 

‘‘Here, Morris, keep him covered with 
my pistol till I see if he’s telling the truth,” 
said Grandfather, handing the other man 
his revolver. 

“Now, sir! I want the letter you’ve 
taken the pains to steal,” announced Grand- 
father, after searching the culprit for fire- 
arms and finding none. 

The man was sullen and resentful, but the 
muzzle of the revolver held by Morris was 
not a pleasant view. He reached in an in- 
ner pocket and took out a paper. This 
he handed to Grandfather Hale. 

The latter looked at it carefully, keeping 
a tight grip on the thief’s shoulder, mean- 
time. He turned to his companion. 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 177 


This fellow’s an agent for a collector,” 
he explained. “ I’ve got a letter in my pos- 
session worth a thousand or so from his 
point of view. I showed it to this chap a 
few days ago, but refused to sell it. This 
man, here,” he gripped the shoulder until 
the fellow squirmed, ‘‘this man has been 
offered a huge premium if he can obtain it 
by hook or by crook. He’s chosen to do it 
by crook.” Grandfather grinned, but not 
kindly. 

The thief began to whimper. He was 
evidently a novice in burglary. 

“What you going to do with me?” he 
sniffed dejectedly. “ Don’t lock me up, Mr. 
Hale. Don’t. It would disgrace me for- 
ever. It’s my first offense! Don’t be hard 
on me!” 

Grandfather grunted something that 
Harmony couldn’t understand Then he 
said sharply, “ We’ll be going now.” 

She never knew how the matter came out, 
for as the three men began to move toward 


178 


HARMONY WINS, 


the door, she suddenly remembered that 
Mrs. Goodwin’s guests were waiting for her. 
She hurried to her room, routed out the 
parchesi board and prepared to return to 
the party. 

She had regained her breath, but her 
heart still beat fast, and her face was 
flushed. What fun it would be, she thought, 
to tell the company all about her capture 
of the burglar. My! but that would be 
thrilling! Wouldn’t Grig’s eyes stand out? 

Then came a later thought. No, it 
would spoil Mrs. Goodwin’s party entirely. 
Jean might easily be frightened, and Grig 
would want to go immediately to interview 
the thief in Mr. Hale’s office. 

She tried to look very demure, as she re- 
entered the room. 

‘‘ My, but you were gone a precious long 
time,” complained Grig. “ Can I take the 
game?” He appropriated the parchesi 
board. 

“ Was anything the matter? ” asked Mrs. 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 179 

Goodwin anxiously, ‘‘We thought we 
heard some confusion.” 

“ Oh, Grandfather had two men up in the 
treasure chamber,” replied Harmony care- 
lessly. 

While the children were busy at their 
game, Mrs. Goodwin went downstairs for a 
kettle of hot water from Eileen’s depart- 
ment. She was gone some time. When she 
returned, she gave Harmony a queer little 
look and then began to arrange the tea-table. 

Soon after they sat down to supper. It 
was a merry party, and the children greatly 
enjoyed the various dainties that Mrs. 
Goodwin had provided. It seemed as if there 
was something that each one especially liked. 

Just before it was over, Mrs. Goodwin 
said, “ I have a piece of news for you. Har- 
mony, I was talking with your grand- 
father, when I went downstairs. I think 
you’ve succeeded in piercing his armor just 
over his heart, little champion, for, guess 
what he has promised?” 


180 HARMONY WINS 

Harmony clasped her hands, and her eyes 
glowed. 

“Dancing school?” she asked eagerly. 

“yes, dancing school,” Mrs. Goodwin 
answered. 

“Oh, how nice!” exclaimed Jean. “I 
guess, if I ask Mother, she’ll let me go, too.” 

“ That would be fine,” said Mrs. Good- 
win. “ I wonder if Grig couldn’t go, 
also.” 

Grig grinned sheepishly. “ With two 
girls? ” he asked. “ I don’t know about that.” 

“ The other boys would be jealous of 
you,” laughed Mrs. Goodwin. “ You’d 
have with you the prettiest girls and the 
best dancers in the room.” 

Grig chuckled. “ That’s true,” he said. 
“ I shall have to ask Father. He told me I 
might go to some gymnasium this winter. 
If it doesn’t cost too much, perhaps he’d 
let me go to dancing school instead.” 

At seven, Jean’s big brother came for 
her, so the party broke up. 

“ Good night, good night,” she called all 


AN INTERRUPTED PARTY 181 

the way down to the front hall. “ IVe had 
such a splendid time.” 

As Grig was leaving a few minutes later, 
he said mischievously, ‘‘ You can't fool me. 
Harmony Hale. Something did happen 
while you were out of the room that time. 
If you don’t tell me — I’ll have to play Old 
Sleuth again.” 

Mrs. Goodwin laughed till all the crinkly 
wrinkles showed. 

You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, 
Grig,” she said. “ I think you’ll have to 
tell him. Harmony. Or shall I, now that 
Jean has gone? It was very thoughtful of 
you not to break up my party by telling it 
when you came back.” 

Harmony grew very rosy. I — I don’t 
think I ought to let anybody know,” she said 
bashfully. 

‘‘ Now, Harmony ” began Grig. 

Very well,” laughed the girl. “ Some 
day. Grig, when you’re especially nice. I’ll 
tell you a real, true burglar story.” 

And Grig had to be content with that. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE PROMISED STORY 

A RE we good friends for keeps now. 
Fairy Godmother?” asked Har- 
mony, that night. 

I hope so,” answered Mrs. Goodwin* 
taking into hers the small hand that was 
furtively creeping across her knee. I 
hope so, indeed. Harmony. Every day it 
seems to me we understand each other 
better and love each other more.” 

They were sitting before the open fire in 
Mrs. Goodwin’s room. The supper guests 
had gone, and the stillness of the place had 
a sort of tender peace that seemed to affect 
both the little half -old lady and the child. 
Harmony came closer until she had found 
a rather insecure seat on the arm of Mrs. 
Goodwin’s chair. 


182 



-yyjj^ GOOD FRIKNDS FOR KPjEPS NOW, i AIRY GrODMOTHER ? 

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THE PROMISED STORY 183 


Do you really love me? ’’ she whispered. 

‘‘ Yes, I really do. I love you dearly,” 
answered Mrs. Goodwin, smiling. 

“ Then — won’t you tell me to-night the 
story of the little girl — who danced? You 
remember, you promised to, when we were 
real friends.” 

“ I remember,” answered Mrs. Goodwin. 
There was a pause. Thefn she continued 
slowly, “ Yes — ^yes, dear, it shall be to-night. 
Get that footstool and sit close to my side, 
where I can touch your hair.” 

Harmony fixed herself comfortably. 
‘‘There,” she said finally, “I’m ready. 
I won’t wiggle. Begin.” 

“ Once upon a time,” commenced the 
fairy godmother, “there was a dear little 
girl named Patricia. She was not unlike 
you. Harmony, only her hair was golden 
and her eyes were blue and large. She was 
such a fairy that many of those who loved 
her called her The Fay. As she had no 
brothers or sisters of her own age, she spent 


1S4 


HARMONY WINS 


much of her time with her mother, who 
thought her small daughter quite the most 
wonderful little girl in the world.” 

I think I’d like to have known her,” 
put in Harmony as the story-teller paused. 

She did have one brother, though,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Goodwin, ten years older than 
herself, but when she was ten, you see, he 
was going to college. After that he became 
an engineer and went away to South Amer- 
ica to build bridges. When Patricia was a 
mite of a thing she began to dance, and her 
mother was so proud of her that she had 
her take dancing lessons.” 

“ Hadn’t she any father?” inquired Har- 
mony. 

“ Oh, yes,” answered Mrs. Goodwin, 
‘‘but he died when she was seven years 
old.” 

“What a pity!” exclaimed the child. 
“ He would have been so proud of her, too.” 

“ She danced so well by the time she was 
fourteen,” Mrs. Goodwin went on, “that 


THE PROMISED STORY 185 


people began to talk about her and say that 
she was very gifted. One day she came to 
her mother. ‘ Mother/ she said, ‘ I’d like to 
dance upon the stage and travel all over 
the world.’ The mother was very unhappy 
over this. She didn’t want her dainty little 
daughter to go on the stage. She was afraid 
she would lose her pretty, gentle ways and 
her modest manner. For some time, the 
mother and Patricia could not agree, 
although they talked and talked and 
talked.” 

‘‘ I know how she must have felt,” inter- 
rupted Harmony. “ She couldn’t help it. 
Could she? ” and she turned to look up into 
Mrs. Goodwin’s face. But the fairy god- 
mother was gazing into the lively flames as 
though she saw in their fluttering golden 
banners a vision of Patricia herself. 

‘‘So it went on,” continued Mrs. Good- 
win, after a while, “ so it went on until she 
was flfteen. Then the mother took the girl 
abroad and had her study dancing and 


186 


HARMONY WINS 


music three years. No money was spared to 
make Patricia an artist. At length people 
began to hear about Patricia, and one day, 
when she was just eighteen, a famous play- 
manager from America came to see her 
dance. Then and there he made an agree- 
ment to have her dance in a fairy play he 
was to bring out that winter in New York. 
So Patricia and her mother had to pack up 
and go back to America. The New York 
manager decided that The Fay was a per- 
fect stage name for her, so only her intimate 
friends ever knew her as Patricia. Of 
course, the young girl was much excited 
and pleased. She was lovely. Harmony, 
with her golden curls and her big blue eyes. 
She was less than medium height and very 
slim and girlish. On the big stage, dancing, 
she did look just like a fairy. How you 
would have loved to see her! And she could 
dance like no one I have ever seen.” There 
was a long, long pause. 

Finally Harmony tired of the pictures 


THE PROMISED STORY 187 

that she saw in the fire. She wanted to 
hear what happened next. So she gently 
patted Mrs. Goodwin’s hand. 

The lady started and sighed. ‘\Well, 
Patricia and her mother took the big ocean 
steamer for New York, and on the voyage 
Patricia met Dick. He was a young Amer- 
ican who had been in Paris for some time 
studying architecture. Dick was a nice 
boy, a very nice boy. He had a ‘ way with 
him ’ that won people’s hearts. And he won 
Patricia’s. It was just as if they were made 
for each other. He was a musician, more 
than anything else, and would have fol- 
lowed music rather than architecture, if it 
hadn’t been for his father. His father, it 
seems, was a severe old man and insisted 
that his son should take up a profession that 
was not all art. His mother had been dead 
many years. 

‘‘As I said, the two young people fell 
very deeply in love. But as Dick had not 
even begun to practice his profession, and 


188 


HARMONY WINS 


Patricia was altogether too young to think 
of marriage, it was decided that they should 
separate for at least two years, and each 
carry out the plans that their respective 
parents had made for them.’’ 

There was another long pause, but Har- 
mony sat as still as a mouse, this time. 
Somehow, she felt as though the story was 
a hard one for Mrs. Goodwin to tell. 
She paused frequently and often hesi- 
tated in finding the words she wished to 
use. 

Of her own accord, Mrs. Goodwin at 
length took up the thread of her tale. “ It 
was hard for the young people to part, but 
they were brave and full of enthusiasm, and 
thought the two years would pass very 
quickly, if they worked hard. So, for a 
year Patricia danced and made a name for 
herself all over the United States, as The 
Fay; and Dick opened an office and tried to 
get houses to build. It was really harder 
for Dick than for Patricia, because he had a 


THE PROMISED STORY 189 


stern father to please, and it was very slow 
getting a start in his business. Besides, he 
wanted to play and sing, not to build houses 
and factories. 

After a little more than a year had 
passed, Patricia’s mother was obliged to 
leave America and go to her son, who was 
in Brazil. He was in trouble. She didn’t 
know what to do with Patricia. The girl 
had never been left alone in her life. More- 
over, she had a series of contracts that she 
had to fulfill and could not break them to 
go with her mother. They wrote about it 
to Dick, and on the next train he came. 
‘ I’ll marry Patricia, now,’ he said, ' and 
travel with her until her contracts are closed. 
Then, either she shall leave the stage, or I 
will find something to do so that I may stay 
with her,’ he decided. So the mother saw 
the young people safely married, before she 
went on her long journey to South 
America. 

But trouble began to come to Patricia 


190 


HARMONY WINS 


and Dick before the mother had been on 
her way a week. Dick’s father, when he 
found out that his son had left his profes- 
sion and married a little dancing girl, was 
in a rage. He demanded that Dick give 
up Patricia, or he would disinherit him. He 
was a rich man, and this was a serious blow 
to Dick. He wanted to take Patricia to see 
his father, for Patricia could have won the 
heart of a stone statue. But the father re- 
fused to see her and Dick as well, unless he 
came alone. Oh, it was a sorry business. 
Harmony, from beginning to end. They 
did not write the mother about their trouble. 
She had anxieties enough without that. Pa- 
tricia just bravely kept on dancing until all 
her contracts were fulfilled. And Dick 
played the piano or gave lessons — anything 
he could find to do. Then the dancing 
stopped, because, dear, a small daughter 
came to Patricia and Dick. She was a deli- 
cate little flower, and for months they had 
difficulty in keeping her from fading quite 


THE PROMISED STORY 191 


away. And then — then — Patricia fell 
ill ” 

Mrs. Goodwin was weeping. Harmony 
looked up and saw the tears in her fairy 
godmother’s eyes. Her heart swelled with 
sympathy, and then, suddenly, the meaning 
of the story came to her. 

She arose and put her arms gently around 
Mrs. Goodwin and laid her face close to the 
one that was wet with tears. 

‘‘ Was Patricia your little girl? ” she >vhis- 
pered. 

‘‘Yes, Harmony,” was the answer, and 
Mrs. Goodwin drew the child into her lap. 
“ Yes, and I never saw my darling again. 
One day the little baby was motherless. 
Dick was alone.” 

Pretty soon, the tears stopped flowing, 
and Mrs. Goodwin smiled, a gentle smile 
that didn’t make use of the crinkly wrinkles 
around her eyes. Harmony noticed that. 

“ There isn’t much more,” she said, as she 
wiped away the last tears. “ Only poor 


192 HARMONY WINS 

Dick was heartbroken and ill. He didn’t 
know what to do for the baby, and so, one 
day, he married again. The one he mar- 
ried was only the wardrobe woman in the 
theater where Patricia had been dancing. 
She loved Dick and took care of him when 
he was sick, after Patricia died, and seemed 
to know just what to do for the baby. But 
it wasn’t for long. The baby was scarcely 
two years old when Dick followed Patricia 
and the little thing was wholly orphaned.” 

What became of her?” Harmony asked 
breathlessly. 

“ Well, when I got back from South 
America, I tried to find Dick’s new wife 
and the baby, but it was difficult. It took 
me years. I — it ” She stopped. 

‘‘Oh, and did you find her? Tell me!” 
exclaimed Harmony. 

“Yes, I found her. Harmony, after a 
long time. But now, dear, that is another 
story, and I cannot tell it to you, to-night. 
Some day I may, but it will not depend 


THE PROMISED STORY 193 


upon either you or me, when I tell it. Now, 
don’t tease.” 

Harmony agreed. “ No, it wouldn’t do 
at all to mix up the two stories. I wouldn’t 
like to have you spoil the lovely, sad one 
about dear Patricia, with any other. O, I 
can just imagine how beautiful she was!” 
The little girl clasped her hands around her 
knees and began dreaming over the fire 
again. 

Mrs. Goodwin spoke. I have pictures 
of Patricia, dear. Would you like to see 
them? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, — oh, yes,” assented Harmony with 
a little hesitation, “only, do you suppose 
I shall be disappointed? Pictures, some- 
times, are not really so good as what you 
imagine for yourself.” 

The fairy godmother smiled softly. “ I 
hope you won’t be disappointed,” she said, 
as she took the photographs out of their 
resting-place. “ I don’t believe you will.” 

She turned up the lamp and then with 


194 


HARMONY WINS 


considerable care selected one from among 
the pictures. 

“ Come here. Harmony, come and let us 
look at Patricia, together.” 

She encircled Harmony with one arm and 
held the photograph before them. 

Harmony looked and gave a little gasp. 
Then she looked longer, and finally, with 
an ecstatic cry, clasped it to her heart. 

‘‘ Oh — oh, Fairy Godmother, are you sure 
that’s Patricia? It’s — ^it’s the picture of 
my lovely lady! ” She turned wide, startled 
eyes upon Mrs. Goodwin. 

“ It’s the picture of my pretend mother! ” 




i 


CHAPTER XIV 

MANY CHANGES 

F or about three months the current of 
Harmony’s life was pleasant and 
peaceful. 

She had made friends with her teacher 
and found that school possessed many de- 
lightful aspects. 

It was exciting to vie in scholarship with 
Jean, who, at first, was acknowledged the 
class leader. Harmony’s pride was pricked, 
her ambition aroused, so she set her teeth 
and plunged in. 

It was hard work at first, for she had 
never made much of a practice of studying. 
Half -prepared lessons had suited her well 
enough heretofore. But not now! After 
a bit, she overhauled Jean in spelling. J ean 
smiled patronizingly. Next she came to 


196 


HARMONY WINS 


the front in geography. Jean was aston- 
ished. A little later she pulled ahead of 
Jean in grammar. Jean looked serious 
and began to regard Harmony as a danger- 
ous rival. Arithmetic was the real stumb- 
ling block. Nevertheless, there was some- 
thing in Harmony that wouldn’t let her 
give up. She slaved along, harder and 
harder, and at last began to share honors 
with Jean. Finally, it was a see-saw be- 
tween them, a pretty race and inspiring to 
the teacher. 

Outside of school the girls were the best 
of friends. It was a rending of hearts, 
therefore, when, about the first of February, 
Mr. McLaren unexpectedly gathered up his 
family and removed the household to a far 
distant part of the town. Ten miles of city 
streets separated the girls and put Jean into 
a new circle of schoolmates. 

Harmony mourned her sincerely. 

At first they met weekly at the Saturday 
dancing-class. This was some consolation, 
and they could scarcely dance, so busy were 


MANY CHANGES 


197 


they exchanging bulletins of the week’s 
events. Grig, whose father had found 
means to send him, was indignant at the 
girls for spending their time gossiping. 
But there came a day when these weekly 
meetings ceased, and the occasions for visit- 
ing each other were few. 

The winter had been stormy, with much 
snow. It , seemed as if it lingered far after 
its appointed time. Mrs. Goodwin and 
Harmony spent many hours of it together. 

The music had progressed finely, and 
Mrs. Goodwin spoke highly of her pupil. 
This encouragement helped the little girl to 
put forth her best efforts. 

“ I do love to see that pleased look on 
your dear face,” Harmony would say af- 
fectionately. 

One blustery March day, when the two 
were discussing a difficult place in the son- 
ata before them, Eileen put her head in at 
the door. 

“ If you please. Mis’ Goodwin,” she said, 
looking perplexed and troubled, would 


198 


HARMONY WINS 


you mind a-comin’ down to Dear-Me? 
She’s takin’ on terrible, and I’m feared she’s 
sick, for sure, this time.” 

Mrs. Goodwin said, “ I’ll come imme- 
diately.” She quickly removed her lawn 
cuffs and tied on a big white apron. Then 
she gathered together her alcohol lamp and 
its belongings, a hot water bag and a roll 
of flannel. 

“ Can’t I do something? ” whispered 
Harmony, appalled at these business-like 
preparations. 

‘‘ You can come with me,” answered Mrs. 
Goodwin, “ and help me carry these things. 
Somehow, I have a feeling that she’s very 
ill. I didn’t think she looked quite right 
this morning. You may have to go for the 
doctor.” 

They went quickly downstairs. 

Mrs. Goodwin gave the patient a search- 
ing glance and felt of her head and wrist. 
Then she turned to Harmony. 

“ Yes, we want the doctor,” she said 


MANY CHANGES 


199 


promptly. Harmony, go to .Dr. Fuller 
and ask him to come immediately. If he is 
out or cannot come within an hour, go on to 
Dr. Lindsay’s and get him.” 

Tears of fright filled Harmony’s eyes. 

“ There, dear, don’t worry,” soothed the 
fairy godmother. “Eileen and I will do 
all that we can to make her comfortable. 
Now trot along.” 

Harmony put on her wraps and went out 
into the wintry day. She would run jerkily 
a few steps and then walk. Everything 
looked queer to her. She seemed wrapped 
in a sort of gray horror through which all 
sights and sounds came vaguely. 

She did her errand at the Doctor’s me- 
chanically, and when he said briskly, “ I’ll 
come now, and you can ride back with me,” 
she had no thrill at riding the few blocks 
in Dr. Fuller’s electric coupe. Any other 
time she would have been wild with concern 
to have Grig see her coming home in such 
state. 


200 


HARMONY WINS 


The Doctor said, Pneumonia,” and 
shook his head. A nurse in her blue and 
white uniform and snowy cap was installed. 
The sick woman’s bedroom was hastily 
cleared of everything but the necessary fur- 
niture, and the vigil, divided between Mrs. 
Goodwin and the nurse, began. 

Harmony had never seen illness before. 
Dear-Me’s former condition, always ac- 
cepted by her as real and by Eileen as pre- 
tended, was nothing like this. The gray hor- 
ror seemed to fill the house for several days. 
Eileen was dismal and said a greaf many 
things that Harmony did not understand. 
Grandfather frowned and shook his shaggy 
head. He seemed worried, too, in his cold, 
silent way. 

The .fairy godmother had few minutes 
for the forlorn little girl, but at those times 
the gray horror was for an instant dispelled 
and she was comforted. 

“Dear-Me is very sick. Harmony,” she 
would say gently. “ You must not worry. 


MANY CHANGES 


201 


We are doing our best to keep her with us.” 

But the best ” was feeble before the de- 
vastating force of the enemy, and on the 
third day Dear-Me closed her tired eyes on 
the world that she had found so weari- 
some. 

In the presence of death, Harmony felt 
the gray horror melt away. She was sorry, 
and she missed Dear-Me. It seemed im- 
possible to believe she had gone. But it 
was not as terrifying as the days of illness 
had been. 

A few weeks after the death of Dear-Me, 
Eileen came to Mrs. Goodwin. She seemed 
nervous, and when she said abruptly, 
“ Larry and me think we^ll get married 
next week,” Mrs. Goodwin realized that 
Eileen had found her decision hard to tell. 

The little half-old lady reached for 
Eileen’s fumbling hand. 

“ I’m glad for Larry’s sake, Eileen, and 
I hope you’ll be very happy. Larry has 
been good and patient. And as for you. 


202 


HARMONY WINS 


nobody can thank you enough for all your 
goodness to a sad, lonely little girl.” 

Eileen began to cry. “ I don’t want to 
go. Mis’ Goodwin, really, an’ yet I do. You 
know I love Harmony and you,” she man- 
aged to say between sobs. “ I couldn’t 
leave when the child needed me. Dear-Me 
did, too. There wasn’t anybody to look af- 
ter her, you know. Now she’s gone and 
you’re here, it don’t so much matter.” 

Mrs. Goodwin kissed the weeping girl. 

“ We’ll never forget all you’ve done, 
Eileen. And we’ll come to see you in your 
pretty new home. Some day, dear, I hope 
you’ll have a little daughter like Harmony. 
Then you will realize what you’ve done for 
her.” 

‘‘ I’ve been cross at her, many and many 
a time,” sniffed Eileen. “ I wish’t I hadn’t. 
I got a cousin, Norah, just turned eighteen. 
She says she’d like my place, if you’d put 
the washin’ out. She ain’t very strong.” 

Harmony found Eileen’s wedding full of 


MANY CHANGES 


203 


romantic interest. To be sure, she was mar- 
ried in a green and black hat, trimmed by 
Mrs. Goodwin, and a bright blue satin dress. 
But love for Eileen made these garments 
the proper and only ones for the occasion, 
in the eyes of Harmony. 

They, Mr. and Mrs. Larry O’Shea, set 
up housekeeping in the upstairs of a two- 
family house, and their plush furniture, 
Brussels rugs, crayon portraits, and other 
shiny new things made Harmony’s eyes 
fairly bulge. 

‘‘ My, but you must be rich, Eileen, you 
and Larry, to buy such a lot of elegant 
things,” she said admiringly. Eileen was 
proud and contented. 

‘‘ To be sure, we’re rich,” she exclaimed. 
“ Don’t my Larry make four dollars a day, 
when he’s workin’? ” 

The house missed Eileen’s cheerful clat- 
ter, for Nor ah, though willing, was not 
merry. She did the work that was to be 
done, hurriedly, and spent as many of her 


204 


HARMONY WINS 


evenings as possible away from home. 

Oh, Harmony Hale, you can’t imagine 
what dreadful thing has happened to me ! ” 

This wail came from Grig one day, soon 
after Eileen’s wedding. 

Harmony was inclined to think that he 
was making fun, until she saw his face. 
Then she knew better. It was a grief- 
stricken, overwhelmed Grig who stood be- 
fore her. She even thought she detected 
tears in his eyes. 

“ No, it’s no use, you can’t guess, pos- 
sibly,” he continued drearily. We’re go- 
ing to leave the city. Father and I.” 

Leave — the — city? ” cried Harmony, 
‘‘ Oh, Grig! ” 

‘‘ Yes, but that isn’t the worst of it! It’s 
bad enough to leave here, but we’re going to 
a small town to live. A small town! Im- 
agine me there!” His scorn was beneath 
the reach of his words. Even his tone of 
voice couldn’t express what he felt. 

‘^Oh, Grig, what’ll I do without you?” 


MANY CHANGES 


205 


Harmony with difficulty kept from crying. 
The only point of view she could see was 
what his going meant to her. To Grig, al- 
most every angle of the proposition had its 
tragedy. 

Finally Harmony asked, “What for?” 

Grig pulled himself together. 

“It’s one of father’s inventions,” he ex- 
plained. “ Some men have taken it up and 
made a company to manufacture it. Father 
is to have a salary in the works to keep on 
perfecting his machine, besides having a 
share in the company.” 

“ But, Grig, oughtn’t that to make you 
rich? ” interrupted the girl. 

Grig tossed his head. “ Oh, that part’s 
all right. It’s the only part that is. Of 
course. Father’s as pleased as Punch. I 

don’t s’pose we’ll be exactly rich, but 

He stopped to observe the vision of riches, 
and then came back to the main issue. 
“ But think of burying ourselves in Ran- 
dolph! Five thousand people! Ugh!” 


206 HARMONY WINS 

To Harmony the number of people meant 
nothing. ‘‘Is that where the factory is?” 
she asked. “ It isn’t very far away, is it? ” 

“ Twenty-five miles,” vouchsafed the boy. 

“ Perhaps you’ll like it,” consoled Har- 
mony, while her heart ached. 

“Like it? Fiddlesticks! I tell you it’s 
awful. Harmony. I’d — I’d like to run 
away,” he said desperately. 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Harmony, “ that would 
be worse still — a strange city, nobody you 
know, and no money. Why, Grig, you 
couldn’t think of doing that! You’d have 
to work.” 

“I guess I could earn my living fast 
enough,” he boasted, but not as confidently 
as he wished. * 

“ I’ll tell you what to do,” counseled the 
little girl, sagely. “You go with your 
father to Randolph. Perhaps you can 
earn money in doing some special kind of 
work. Anyway, your father’ll have more 
to give you. And when you’re older, and 


MANY CHANGES 


207 


have money saved up, and are able to earn 
your living, then come back to the city 
again.” 

‘‘ That’d take me years and years,” ob- 
jected Grig, “ and all that time I’ll be living 
in Randolph — a tuppenny little town ! ” 

“Well, you won’t be half as lonesome as 
I’ll be,” said Harmony, and she retreated 
into the house in tears, to take refuge in 
Mrs. Goodwin’s comforting arms. 

“ You’re all I’ve got left,” she sobbed. 
“Jean’s gone, and Eileen, and now Grig. 
You’re all I’ve got left.” 

Mrs. Goodwin smoothed the curly head. 

“What’s the good of making friends if 
you’ve got to give them up?” she mourned. 

The fairy godmother tried to explain. 

“ But you’re not really giving them up, 
dear. The spirit of real friendship cannot 
die. The love of these friends. Harmony, 
will always be with you, and will, let us 
hope, bring you together again. You must 
remember that it is doubtless for their best 


208 


HARMONY WINS 


interest to go away. Come, dear, wipe your 
eyes and be thankful that you have made 
these dear friends, even though you may 
have to be separated from them some 
times.” 

Grig departed, and, aside from an occa- 
sional picture post card, on which he men- 
tioned nothing more important than the 
state of the weather or the local baseball 
team’s score, he gave no details of his new 
life. 

Two weeks later. Harmony’s strength of 
character was put to the severest test of all, 
through the fairy godmother herself. 

The signal came one day in April in the 
form of a letter followed by telegrams. 
Harmony delivered the letter herself, be- 
fore she went to school. 

When she came home, Mrs. Goodwin was 
dressed ready to go out, a trunk was stand- 
ing, locked and strapped, in the hall, and 
on it was a traveling bag. 

Harmony ran into the room. 


MANY CHANGES 209 

“ Why, Fairy Godmother, it looks as if 
you were going traveling,” she exclaimed 
with an unsteady little laugh. “ Tell me, 
you’re not going away, are you?” 

“ Yes, I am. Harmony,” answered Mrs. 
Goodwin, drawing the child down onto the 
couch beside her. ‘‘ I must go to-night, 
dear. Now, I want you to show how brave 
you are! You are a brave girl. Harmony, 
and unselfish. When I tell you I must go, 
you will understand that only something 
very important takes me away from you. 

Mrs. Goodwin had to be a little stern, for 
fear she, herself, would break down. 

“How — how long shall you be away?” 
asked Harmony. 

“ I wish I could tell. But I really don’t 
know, except that it may be some time. I’d 
better not even guess at it, for we’d both be 
disappointed if it didn’t come true.” 

Harmony sat in a silence that was stony, 
so strong was her effort to preserve her 
self-control. She listened without response 


210 


HARMONY WINS 


to the many plans Mrs. Goodwin detailed 
for her comfort. 

I’ve told your grandfather. I’ve ex- 
plained to him that I’d like to keep my room, 
just as it is. I thought perhaps, he might 
enjoy sitting here sometimes. And you, of 
course, you’ll have to go on with your prac- 
tice. Norah says she’ll take the best kind 
of care of you, and I’ve sent word to Eileen 
to come over occasionally and see that 
Norah keeps her word.” 

The baggage man called for the trunk. 

As it thumped downstairs, Harmony 
could have shrieked with grief. Every 
bump seemed to hit her heart. But she 
only gripped her hands hard and sat still, 
waiting for the terror that approached. 

Mrs. Goodwin finally returned. 

“I’ll write you very often, dear,” she 
said, “ and you must write me. Suppose 
you keep a sort of diary, and write a little 
every day. Then, once a week, or oftener, 
gather up all the papers and send them on 


MANY CHANGES 


211 


to me. That will be like visiting together. 
Will you do it, Harmony? I’ll put my 
address, here, with your music lesson, on the 
piano rack. You’ll see it every time you 
begin to practice. Now, let’s see, what 
else? Why, Harmony, you’ve grown so 
helpful and so capable that, as far as that is 
concerned, you can do splendidly alone.” 

Harmony’s wistful eyes searched hers. 
They seemed to say that being helpful and 
capable wasn’t much of a comfort when one 
was lonely. 

“ Then there’s your grandfather. Per- 
haps — ^well. Harmony, I’m hoping you and 
he will be great friends yet.” 

Mrs. Goodwin paused and glanced at her 
watch. 

“ Eileen’s coming to have supper with 
you. She’s going to set the table up here. 
It’s time for me to go.” 

The parting was simple. Both were 
brave. Harmony’s hurt was deeper than 
tears, for the moment. She was stunned 


212 


HARMONY WINS 


at the thought of her bereavement. She 
couldn’t imagine the future without Mrs. 
Goodwin. 

“ Good-bye, my brave little girl. Good- 
bye. And take good care of yourself,” the 
latter whispered, kissing Harmony ten- 
derly. 

“ Good-bye — dear — Fairy God — ^moth- 
er,” choked Harmony, swallowing the tears. 
‘‘ I’ll— I’ll try.” 


CHAPTER XV 


HARMONY PREVAILS 

M rs. GOODWIN left on Tuesday. 
It was a blessing for Harmony that 
the week contained so many school 
days. The things that must be done saved 
her from an overwhelming loneliness. Of 
course, it was hardly to be expected that 
Grandfather would be company for her. 

Among the fairy godmother’s many 
thoughtful arrangements for Harmony’s 
comfort was this: she was expected to stop 
at Grandfather’s office each morning, be- 
fore she left for school. At night, when 
school was over, she was to go to him once 
more and report for herself. In this way. 
Grandfather would be kept apprised of her 
good health and general condition. 

He received these two daily greetings 

213 


214 


HARMONY WINS 


very much in his usual manner. The dogs 
also sustained their reputation. 

One day, after the exchange of good- 
mornings, Grandfather asked, “ Getting 
along all right? ” And one evening, he 
said, “ How’s everything going? ” 

As for Zip — one day he stopped yapping, 
and sniffed curiously at Harmony’s friendly 
hand. Mose was consistently ungracious. 

When she saw him Friday, Harmony 
thought that Grandfather looked tired and 
old. On her part, she extended a courteous 
interest and asked gently, “ Aren’t you feel- 
ing well. Grandfather? ” 

‘‘ Yes, yes, I’m all right,” he responded 
gruffly. Got a little cold, that’s all.” 

When Saturday came. Harmony was dis- 
consolate. She practised, and studied, and 
read, and mended, and yet the hours 
dragged. She tried the charms of the 
treasure chamber. Never before had it 
looked to her dusty and cluttered and cold. 
Not a spark of enthusiasm was kindled 



She gently pushed open the door, then stood amazed and 
SILENT UPON THE THRESHOLD . — Page 215 . 




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HARMONY PREVAILS 215 

within her. Even Nathan Hale’s face 
seemed sad and her pity for his untimely 
fate welled up in her heart and tears threat- 
ened. 

Drearily, she turned away, and with soft 
step went back to the fairy godmother’s 
room. She gently pushed open the door, 
then stood amazed and silent upon the 
threshold. 

There sat Grandfather! He was sunk in 
Mrs. Goodwin’s great easy chair, his hands 
lying slackly on its arms. At first she 
thought he was sleeping, for his chin rested 
on his breast. But as she watched him, she 
realized that he was gazing intently at a 
large photograph of Patricia, that stood on 
the mantel-piece. It had never been there 
before. Harmony wondered about it. 

She stood quite still. The little fire in 
the grate crackled pleasantly. But aside 
from that, the whole atmosphere of the 
room seemed sad. 

To Harmony’s keenly sensitive nature, 


216 


HARMONY WINS 


the loneliness of the man seemed greater 
than hers. She longed to comfort him. 
Stealing forward, she stood close to his 
chair. Her timid fingers just touched his 
rugged hand, like the brushing of a butter- 
fly* 

He did not move. He seemed not to 
know that she was there. Back upon her 
own heart flowed the tide of sympathy. He 
had not noticed her first delicate overture. 
Her own desolateness was doubled at this 
disappointment. She turned away and 
walked towards the door. 

Harmony!’’ 

The little girl jumped in surprise and 
turned. 

‘‘ Come here,” continued Grandfather. 

She approached the side of his chair. 

“ Why did you come? ” he asked abruptly. 

‘‘ I — I was so lonely,” she whispered. 

Lonely? Did you come to me for com- 
pany? ” he asked keenly. 

She nodded and looked away from him. 


HARMONY PREVAILS 217 


He studied her averted face for a moment 
and then asked, ‘‘ But why were you going 
away? ’’ 

She turned to him wistfully. 

I thought perhaps you wouldn’t like me 
to disturb you,” she confessed frankly. 

Grandfather frowned. “ I’d like to have 
you stay,” he said briefly. 

Harmony began to feel better. There 
was a stimulating effect about conversation 
with Grandfather. She smiled down at 
him. 

“ I’m so glad,” she murmured. 

“ You are very like your mother. Har- 
mony,” he said as he watched her face 
brighten. 

“Like Dear-me!” she exclaimed. “ O, 
but she had such dark eyes and black hair.” 
She turned to look at the picture on the 
mantel-piece. 

Grandfather sat up with an expression of 
surprise on his face. 

“Like Dear-me?” he said. “Don’t 


218 HARMONY WINS 

you He stopped and leaned back 

again. 

There was a pause. Harmony broke the 
silence. 

“ I wish I looked like her — my pretend 
Mamma,” she said. “Did you know that 
IVe called her my pretend Mamma 
for years, ever since I found her photo- 
graph? ” 

Grandfather watched her like a hawk 
from beneath his shaggy brows. She 
seemed to puzzle him. 

“ Did the fairy godmother give you that 
beautiful picture of Patricia? ” she ques- 
tioned. 

“ If you mean Mrs. Goodwin, yes,” an- 
swered Grandfather. 

“ How kind of her. But then, she’s al- 
ways doing nice things for people. Did 
she tell you that Patricia was her little 
girl?” continued Harmony. 

Grandfather nodded. 

“ And — and did she tell you that dear 


HARMONY PREVAILS 219 


Patricia died and left a little baby 
daughter?” she whispered. 

“ .Yes,” replied the old man. 

O dear,” sighed Harmony, “ and that 
was the beginning of the story she never 
told me. I wish she had let me know how 
it all came out, before she went away.” 

‘‘What story was that?” asked Grand- 
father crustily. But Harmony wasn’t 
to be easily frightened by his manner 
now. 

“ Oh, the story of Patricia and Dick’s 
baby. Dick married again, you see, after 
Patricia died, and then he died, too. 
Wasn’t it sad? And the new mother took 
the baby and went away. • Mrs. Goodwin 
found them after years and years, she said, 
but she couldn’t tell me the story until — un- 
til — well, really, I don’t know why. She 
didn’t explain.” Harmony looked around 
into her Grandfather’s face. “ I did so 
want to hear what became of their little 
baby.” 


220 


HARMONY WINS 


“Suppose I should tell you?’* asked 
Grandfather, drawing the little girl in front 
of him. “ What would you do? ” 

Harmony thought a moment. “ I might 
give you a great big kiss,” she said archly. 
“ But how could you know about this story 
— unless, of course, she told you.” 

“ Well, I do know it,” asserted Grand- 
father, “ and I’ll tell it to you. Who did 
you say Dick was?” 

“ Oh, he was Patricia’s husband, you 
know, the baby’s father,” explained Har- 
mony. “I thought you knew the story.” 

“There, there,” he grumbled. “You 
mustn’t interrupt.” 

He thought a moment and frowned fear- 
fully. 

“ After Dick — was — gone,” he began 
haltingly, “ the new wife took the baby and 
— and — sold all of Patricia’s and Dick’s 
things. Dick didn’t leave her any money. 
She was poor. She was angry because she 
had no money and yet had to take care of 


HARMONY PREVAILS 221 


somebody else’s child. She didn’t want to 
work for it, and she was lazy. One day, 
she found out — she found out that Dick had 
a rich father. He had cast off Dick, when, 
— when he had married — against his will.” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember,” interrupted 
Harmony eagerly. “Wasn’t it too bad? 
If he’d only been willing to see Patricia 
he’d have loved her. Don’t you think so? ” 
she asked. 

“ Perhaps, perhaps,” he answered testily. 
“ Do you want to hear the rest* ” 

Harmony nodded demurely. “Yes, 
please,” she said. 

“ So that woman,” went on Grandfather, 
scowling again, “ hunted up Dick’s father 
in the city and took the baby with her. " You 
are Dick’s father, and here is your grand- 
daughter,’ she said, leading a toddling girl 
at her side. ‘We have come to live with 
you.’ ” 

Grandfather stopped and seemed to for- 
get all about his little audience. 


222 


HARMONY WINS 


“Yes, Grandfather, what then?” asked 
Harmony, clasping her hands in ecstasy. 
“ Wasn’t he glad? How he must have 
loved Dick’s little girl ! ” 

Grandfather repeated, “Glad?” after 
Harmony, in a strange tone of voice. 
“Glad?” he said again. “Oh, yes, prob- 
ably.” 

After another pause, he continued. 

“ They lived with him nine years. The 
woman becanie an invalid. The little girl 
began to grow up. Mrs. Goodwin spent 
eight years hunting for them. Then she 
found them living in the — in the grand- 
father’s house.” 

The man watched the child sharply from 
under his bushy brows. 

Harmony began to change color. Her 
heart beat fast. The smile died out of her 
face. She leaned forward. 

“What was the baby’s name?” she 
whispered tensely. 

“ It was — Harmony,” he replied. 


HARMONY PREVAILS 223 


“ Of course,” she breathed. 

There was a long pause. 

Unconsciously, Harmony drew away 
from her Grandfather’s chair. His story 
had turned her world upside-down. It 
took some time for it to right itself. 

A tide of memories swept over her. She 
thought of her years of loneliness, her crav- 
ing for affection. Grandfather’s daily neg- 
lect, his coldness, his direct unkindness. 
Then the coming of the fairy godmother 
with her magic wand of love. Since then, 
how different her life had been! And now, 
now the dream of the beautiful pretend 
mother had come true. It was too wonder- 
ful! What could matter to her now? 

She turned back to the old man. There 
he sat hunched up in the easy chair, ob- 
livious of her presence, his cold, stern eyes 
seeming to gaze into the shadows of the 
past. She was sorry for him. How much 
he had lost! Dick’s love and Patricia’s — 
and now hers. 


224 


HARMONY WINS 


Harmony’s gaze returned to the photo- 
graph on the mantel. 

“Dear, beautiful mother,” she thought, 
her glance resting wistfully on the sweet, 
happy eyes of the young woman in the pic- 
ture, “ if only you could come back to me. 
You would make it all right. But you’re 
just a lovely dream, and I’m all alone. 
Everybody’s gone — Jean and Grig and 
Eileen, and now my dear fairy godmother. 
Grandfather’s all I’ve got left and he — ^he 
doesn’t care. He’ll never love me.” The 
tears in her eyes hid the picture from her. 
“ Oh, mother dear,” she murmured, “ I’m — 
so — lonely! ” 

From the street, distant but clear, stole 
in the strains of ’Seppy’s street piano, play- 
ing a melodious waltz. But there was no 
thrill in the heart of the little girl, no tingle 
in her feet to answer to its rhythmic meas- 
ure. 

Forlornly she listened, when, suddenly a 


HARMONY PREVAILS 225 

hand stole across her shoulder. Grand- 
father was standing beside her. It was his 
arm that drew her gently to his side. 

She looked up wonderingly into the stern 
eyes under the shaggy brows. In them a 
deep tenderness met her gaze. 

Harmony,” murmured the old man 
brokenly, little granddaughter.” 

There was a short pause, while the music 
continued. 

“Won’t you dance for me. Harmony?” 

THE END 





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NEXT«NIQHT STORIES 

By CLARENCE JOHNSON MESSER 

Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman 12mo Cloth 
Decorated Cover Price, Net, $l»00 Postpaid, $1*10 

A MASTER hand at telling “animal stories*’ 
^ holds the attention of four bright children 
so successfully that the demand for a “next- 
night story ” cannot be denied, and twelve of 
the finest stories since “Uncle Remus” and 
Hans Christian Andersen are in this book. By 
endowing animals with speech and causing them 
to show human emotions, rich entertainment is 
furnished, and an excellent lesson of kindness 
and duty — not too prominent — is plain to see in 
each night’s fascinating disclosure. The stories 
in their order are; The Proud and Foolish 
Peacock; Tinklebell; The Donkey and the Wolf; The Fox, the Raccoon, 
and tli.^ Bear; The Dwarfs; The Frog Girl; Granny Chipmunk’s Lesson; 
The Horse and the Hen; Dandy Beaver and Sippy Woodchuck; Sambo 
and Jerry; The Bird of Prey; The Hen That Ran Away. Children will 
be 'harmed and grown-ups will not only be glad of such fine material for 
captivating young listeners, but will themselves be interested in the skill- 
fully-told tales and in the pretty, humorous connecting thread of incidents 
that made the stories possible and had such a happy ending. 

“ When confronted by the tell-me-a-story challenge for a hundredth time these 
tales will prove a boon by replenishing your exhausted supply. They are models 
of their hind.” — Christian World, Cleveland. 

*' Children will be charmed, and even grown-ups cannot help being interested in 
the skillfully-told tales.” — Milwaukee Free Press, 

“NEXT-NIGHT STORIES are the kind that please as well as teach the ever 
useful lesson of kindness to dumb creatures.” — Buffalo Commercial. 

“ One need not fear lest this volume will find willing listeners; the difficulty 
will be to limit them to a single story a night.” — Troy Record. 


For sale by all booksellers or seat on receipt of postpaid 
price by the pubiisbers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 





AUG 4 1913 



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